


Charming Prince Charming

by qblackheart



Category: 10th Kingdom (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 10th Kingdom AU, But also, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Some Dark Fairytale Themes, Thor (Movies) AU, but then, fluffiest fluff to ever fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 19:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 76,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qblackheart/pseuds/qblackheart
Summary: In a bid to broker a lasting peace throughout the Nine Kingdoms, all the single Princes Charming™ were gathered together to be scrutinised as prospective suitors for the three beautiful Princesses from the elusive (and evil) Eighth Kingdom: Hela, Amora, and Lorelei. It was up to their youngest brother, Loki, to decide if the Princes were worthy of his sisters’ hands in marriage (as well as hopefully resilient to magical torture, bodily harm, and death by dragon). The eminently eligible Prince Thor of the illustrious First Kingdom was, unsurprisingly, the frontrunner in the competition. Usually, the mere mention of marriage had Thor running for the hills but he was lightning quick to change his mind when he met the exceptionally lovely Prince Loki. Fortunately for Thor, Loki wanted him nowhere near his sisters. Unfortunately for Thor, that seemed to apply doubly to Loki himself. But Thor had always craved adventure above all else, and he'd overcome every challenge he'd ever encountered, because that's what heroes did. However, he was quickly coming to realise that he'd never faced a challenge like Loki, and they both discovered that perhaps falling in love was the greatest adventure of them all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in The 10th Kingdom universe, because I liked the parallels of the Nine Kingdoms and the Nine Realms of Norse mythology. If you haven’t seen this delightful and cheeky take on well-known and much-loved fairy tales set well after the Happily-Ever-Afters, you should see it. (Oh, you’ll need about 10 hours to kill because it’s a mini-series, y’all). I loved it; Wolf is my main squeeze. (I also couldn’t help myself: Thor channels Chris Pine from Into the Woods a little – just watch the song Agony and you’ll see what I mean ;o)
> 
> First off, huge hugs and thanks to my wonderful artist **@catfishofoldin99colours**. Her art blog is **@blublubmeow**. Check out her art here and show her some love! [https://blublubmeow.tumblr.com/post/180131603944/my-illustration-to-the-lovely-fic-charming-prince](url). She is super-talented and has a amazing, distinctive style that I will now recognise anywhere. I’m sure she’s going places and I’m so happy she picked my story. Thank you for being a kick-ass partner-in-crime!
> 
> Secondly, my assigned beta went MIA and I panicked a teeny tiny bit (if you believe that) before I screwed up my courage and reached out to the brilliant **@raven-brings-light**. Thank you so much for your patience and help editing this fic, as well as your added insight; I’m only sorry I couldn’t give you a version of this where Thor is Wolf and Loki is Virginia. I just didn’t think of it until you mentioned it and now it won’t leave me alone. So, really. Thanks.
> 
> Finally, thanks to the **@thorkibigbang** mods for running an awesome show; now that I’m done writing, I’ll be doing a lot of reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **Please DO NOT repost my work anywhere, especially to sites like Goodreads. Thank you.**
> 
>  
> 
> Right. Allow me warn you, fellow Thorki fan, that I haven’t written fic in about 6 years. Yeah, my dry spell was, like, Death Valley dry. I contented myself by watching our dynamic duo from the sidelines, but Thor: Ragnarok sucker-punched me right in the feels, okay? And then Infinity War roundhouse-kicked me in the lady nuts and I could no longer ignore my muse.
> 
> So, here I am, and here’s my little story (haha, kidding, there’s nothing little about 76K – why can I never keep things short and sweet?). Anyway. Because I couldn’t make up my mind, I wrote this and a post-A:IW fix-it fic simultaneously. I guess I needed to put more pressure on myself what with this and RL and working full-time and all, coz stress gets my motor running and that’s how I roll. Or something. On the artist’s pick date, I chose this story and shelved the IW fic for now (I will be posting it soon, though; it’s at 50K already and I’m hoping it’ll be done over the holidays).
> 
> Then, as if I hadn’t already complicated things enough, a few days ago, I started writing another version of this story. Why? I don’t know, people; I just don’t know; my mind is a mystery even to me. But I’ll probably post that one at some point soon, too. So this is v1. This fic also has an epilogue, but it’s shared between v1 and v2, so I’ll post it later, after I post v2 coz...spoilers.
> 
> I’m basing all this on the assumption that people will actually care or even want to read all this; but, for reals, I hope you guys read this; I worked really hard on it. I sincerely hope that you like it as much as I do because I put a lotta love (and sweat and a whole river of tears) into writing this.
> 
>  
> 
> **Please comment and let me know what you think; I’d really appreciate it, and I will love you forever for it because I’m easy like that.**

 

  

The vast icy plains of the Eighth Kingdom stretched out as far as the eye could see; it was always wintry there, and its people were renowned for being as cold and dismal as its frigid landscape.

The coldest of them all was the Snow Queen.

Or, at least, she used to be. A long time ago, before True Love placed its hooks within her heart. She’d long resisted its pull, for sentiment, she’d always thought, was for the weak.

But as she’d gotten older and wiser, regrets and recriminations had made her start to question her past choices.

Her daughters had made her start to question... _everything_.

She stood in her private study, gazing out of the window at the great ice gardens of the palace. From her vantage, she could see her kingdom spread out before her, beautiful and desolate. It was the same vista that soothed her soul on a daily basis but today, in her heart of hearts, she suddenly longed to see a patch of bright green grass and maybe some pretty pink roses in bloom.

The thought bordered on sacrilegious but she only ever allowed herself to indulge in them here, within the confines of her one true sanctuary in the castle.

But even this last bastion had been breached.

She was well aware of the eyes watching her every move, and the ears that listened constantly for her failings to show. It was the reason she hardly spoke – or relaxed or slept – these days; it was hard to let down your guard when your daughters were trying to kill you.

A quiet knock made her turn. “Enter.”

A dark head tentatively poked its way around the heavy door to her study; it was her son, Loki. She wished she could smile at him, offer her cheek for a sweet kiss, or hold out her arms for a warm hug. He looked as he always did: mutinous and meek, and wistful and wary, like he longed to both sit at her knee and lay his head upon her lap, and bolt as far away from her as he could all at once.

Now, at one and twenty years, he had outgrown his childhood awkwardness and was poised and proper in everything he did: a true Prince. He’d always been beautiful, though, and he was still the one bright spot in her otherwise bleak existence. But he would never know it, and she would never tell him as long as his sisters were around, for they, in their jealousy, would make his life a living hell for it. So, she remained austere and he remained guarded as he walked into the room.

“Good morning, your majesty,” he greeted softly. He did not sit and she did not ask him to.

“Good morning, my son,” she said instead. “I have a task for you.”

“Of course, mother.”

“Your sisters have informed me that they wish to be wed,” she said without preamble. Loki looked startled at the news. She would have been shocked too, had she not been the one to orchestrate it all in the first place.

Her daughters often derided her age behind her back – and sometimes to her face – but no matter how young and beautiful they were, they still lacked the wisdom, cunning, power, and sheer _patience_ that came from age and experience.

So, the Queen had planted the seed; she’d subtly set one daughter against the other and made it into a competition – who could snag the best suitor? – and then she’d let them think it was their idea. Why, she’d even been against it at the start. She was playing the long game; they simply lacked the forbearance for it. But she was not going to rest until she’d ridden her kingdom of their foul stench, so that she could finally rule in peace and so that her son would finally be free to be himself and step out of their unholy shadows.

“You have nothing to say?” she asked her son when the silence stretched on.

“Do they _all_ wish to be wed?” he asked softly. So softly that someone who did not know him might’ve thought him timid.

 _Ah_ , the Queen realised with some surety, _he knows we’re being watched._

“They have suggested – and I have agreed – to hold a competition of sorts.”

Loki bit his lip. “A competition?”

“To find a champion. Well, to find a husband of... _quality_ , worthy of my daughters,” the Queen elaborated. “Chosen contenders – who will be selected from amongst the royal families of the Nine – will gather and vie for your sisters’ hands in marriage through a series of trials of your sisters’ own design. It shall be like the arrangements of marriage of old combined with great sport. I think the contenders will delight in it.”

“I see,” Loki said, his voice sounding a trifle strangled. “So those that pass the trials will be the champions...”

“Exactly. The top three will be claimed by your sisters.”

Loki swallowed audibly. “What of those who fail the trials?”

“I had not thought to ask, but they will likely return to their kingdoms defeated and thoroughly shamed, I’m sure,” the Queen replied, sounding completely unruffled, even though she was certain that both she and Loki knew very well that those who failed the trials would fail because they’d died trying.

Good thing that she never intended for the tournament to actually take place.

“What would you have me do, mother?”

“I wish to send you to the Nine Kingdoms Council as my Emissary,” she said, carefully watching as Loki masked his surprise; indeed, her behest would seem to have come out of the blue. “I have sent word to King Wendell. He and the Council are compiling a list of candidates.”

“Candidates? Not...contenders?” Loki asked with a sage look and, oh yes, her son was very clever indeed. She wished she could take some credit for it but, in truth, Loki had had to fend for himself most of his life; his intellect and perceptiveness were skills he’d honed alone.

“What the Council does not know will not hurt them,” she declared airily. “The contenders will be told of the competition once they arrive here. They will be given the choice of whether they wish to compete or not. If they compete, well and good; if not, they will be free to leave.”

To his credit, Loki did not look as dubious at her remarks as she knew he felt. “As you wish, my Queen,” he said. Then he fidgeted, something that was a little out-of-character for him. “How long will I be gone, mother?”

“It should not be more than three days,” the Queen responded. This time, Loki held himself unnaturally still, with bated breath almost as if he was expecting some momentous event. Instead of drawing unwanted attention to his strange behaviour, she continued as if unbothered. “Wendell will have a dossier of candidates waiting for you to peruse upon your arrival in the Fourth Kingdom; you will choose the worthiest and arrange for them to journey here soon after you leave. They will enter the tournament and, if they pass the trials, the top three will be claimed by your sisters: Hela gets first choice, and then Amora and Lorelei in that order, of course.”

Loki nodded obediently. “Of course.”

“Now, Wendell is planning a small party in your honour when you arrive. It’s a trifling thing, I’m told, but you will be representing our Kingdom before the rest of the Nine and the Council; you will be judged very severely indeed. You must therefore present yourself with impeccable decorum. My tailor has been summoned to make you something fit for a Prince of the Eighth. I trust you will not disappoint me.”

“I will make you proud, mother.”

 _You make me proud every day, my son_ , the Queen thought as Loki bowed and exited her study.

If her plan worked, some day very soon, she would actually – and finally – be able to say the words out loud.

 

* * *

 

Thor, Prince of the great and illustrious First Kingdom, sighed mightily. 

He was bored. He longed for adventure. But he'd already traversed the length and breadth of eight of the Nine Kingdoms multiple times and, it seemed, all the adventure that was to be had, had been had by people who were not him.

Take the intrepid, recently crowned King of the Fourth Kingdom, Wendell – the not-so-great heir of the oh-so-great Queen Snow White – for instance. He and his friends had just saved all the Nine Kingdoms from being taken over by yet _another_ Evil Queen.

This most recent horrid incarnation of the Evil Queen had apparently hailed from the newly discovered _Tenth_ Kingdom, and so had Wendell’s new friends, Virginia and her father, Anthony. Accompanied by a half-wolf rather imaginatively named Wolf, they had thwarted an outright attempted coup by the Evil Queen and, thus, the “Crisis of the Nine Kingdoms” had been averted.

They’d also all been honoured as Saviours of the Nine Kingdoms; even Wendell, the dolt, who’d been bewitched by the Evil Queen and had spent most of his time saving the Nine on all fours as a _dog_.

Thor, on the other hand, had saved countless people, from countless evil things, and all without an ounce of recognition for his efforts.

Not that he needed the recognition, of course. Everyone and their fairy godmothers knew that he was the best of all the Princes Charming in the Nine, for he was the handsomest, the mightiest, and the most eligible of all the bachelor Princes; Thor _was_ the Prince of Dreams.

It just...wasn’t enough.

Something was missing in his life and, try as he might, nothing he’d done recently had been able to fill that void.

He sighed again; his usually sunny disposition had been downright gloomy for months now. Even the prospect of a ball, with some very pretty people in attendance, one or more of whom would probably warm his bed for the next few nights, was not enough to shake off his ennui.

Thor watched Wendell flounce around the grand ballroom of the White Palace checking this and that like a frenzied butterfly.

“Don’t you have people for that sort of thing?” Thor asked, unable to refrain from comment.

Wendell waved him off. “Of course I do,” he replied. “I just need to check that everything’s absolutely perfect!” Thor watched him flit and flutter for a few more seconds before Wendell did a celebratory little pirouette in the middle of the dance floor, grinning gleefully as he twirled. “I swear this room did not look half as beautiful even on the day of my coronation!”

“I wouldn’t know,” Thor muttered, stifling a yawn. “I didn’t come to your coronation.”

“I noticed,” Wendell responded, mouth pursed in disappointment. “Even then this big black cloud hovered over your head. Truly, what troubles you, Thor?”

“If I knew, I would fix it, Wendell,” Thor said with a sigh. “I’m just bored of life in general, I think.”

“Oh, chin up, your highness,” Wendell drawled, a bit too pompously for Thor's liking. “I have discovered that, in the Nine Kingdoms, adventure can be found around every corner.” 

“That's easy for you to say, your  _majesty_ ,” Thor spat scornfully, “for you have taken all the adventure very selfishly for your own!”

Wendell stared him down. “We just saved the Nine Kingdoms from a bloodthirsty Queen far more evil than any we have ever seen in our history! Your Kingdom was amongst them!”

Thor huffed. “You could've at least sent for me! You know how much I love an adventure; how I crave battle! I would've fought by your side!”

“The Evil Queen switched my body with her dog, Thor!” Wendell cried. “Forgive me if I was a little busy trying to break her spell before the transformation became irreversible!”

“You weren't too busy to recruit help from the Tenth Kingdom!” Thor snapped angrily. 

“You know as well as I do that that was a complete accident and stroke of good fortune! Having the Evil Queen’s daughter and husband on our side was instrumental in her defeat!” Wendell argued. 

“Ah, suck an elf,” Thor mumbled, only just barely conceding the point. “Still. It didn’t stop you from gallivanting into the Tenth Kingdom, now did it? A heretofore unknown and unexplored kingdom, when your lifelong allies have been here! Languishing away!  _Without any adventure!_ ”

Wendell rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. Languishing in the lap of luxury in the most ostentatious kingdom of them all.”

“I cannot help that we are the First and best of the Nine Kingdoms, Wendell; that is just the way it is. My grandmother is the last of the Great Queens; she doesn’t settle for second best,” Thor said with a proud smirk. Then he got serious again. “What would it cost me to get access to one of those magic mirrors so that I may travel to the Tenth Kingdom?”

“The Travelling Mirrors have all been destroyed; we in the Nine can no longer access the Tenth,” Wendell stated flatly, his nose in the air. He was lying of course; Thor could tell.

“Wendy...” Thor wheedled.

“Don’t call me that!” Wendell barked; Thor stifled a giggle at the reminder of Wendell in his recent canine form. “You would do well to focus your sights right here where they are needed. In the Nine!”

“There is nothing new in the Nine that we need to deal with!”

Wendell’s jaw dropped. “Thor! The Second Kingdom teeters on the brink of war! The Snow Queen is no longer trying to conquer all the Nine, but her _daughters_ are! The Trolls have run amok in the Third Kingdom without King Relish’s predatory but predictable hand to guide them! It’s been ninety-nine years and there is still no word on who the bloody hell Sleeping Beauty’s Prince is! The Dwarves are not talking to me right now, and the bloody Naked Emperor talks to me too much!”

Thor sighed deeply at the drama king in front of him; none of this was earth-shattering news. These were the Nine Kingdoms; strife was an everyday occurrence. “None of that concerns the First Kingdom.”

“That is precisely my point!” Wendell screeched. “It cannot continue! We cannot cut ourselves off from each other any longer.”

“Why not? That particular political strategy has served us well for centuries.”

“We are the  _Nine_ Kingdoms, Thor; we need to become united, whether we agree with each other or not,” Wendell urged; then he sighed. “This whole escapade – The Crisis – has taught me that. I was happily ignorant of the problems faced by even my own people, let alone anywhere else. We must put aside our petty squabbles and come together, especially in the face of great evil!”

“Is that why you’re throwing this...” Thor gestured vaguely around the empty but admittedly beautifully decorated ballroom, “...soiree?”

“It is a meeting of the Nine Kingdoms Council,” Wendell said, huffing in annoyance. “That said, I saw no reason not to make it a celebratory one and begin it with a ball. We're not savages.”

“Whatever,” Thor muttered, bored on top of his usual residual levels of boredom. “Why am _I_ here again?”

“You are in line to the throne of your kingdom.”

“I am  _thirteenth_  in line to the First throne,” Thor reminded Wendell in case he had forgotten. Who knew how addled his brain had become after all that time spent as a canine? “You need to consult my father and siblings who are first to fifth in line after my grandmother. I have accompanied them all here because the Queen demanded it. I’d thought to stay for the ball, but now I’m off; apparently, there’s sport to be had in the Third with the Trolls running amok.”

Wendell frowned in confusion. “I _just_ told you that.”

“I know; thanks for the tip!”

“No wait!” Wendell grabbed him as he turned to leave. Thor levelled a warning glare at the King's hand upon his arm. Wendell, as proof of his newfound wisdom, winced and dropped his hold. “You should be here. Your presence is of import to the Council's plans for a lasting peace between the Nine Kingdoms.”

Thor frowned, and asked: “What could I possibly bring to the table? Apart, of course, from my awe-inspiring feats of derring-do, dashing good looks, and Charm™?”

Wendell looked unimpressed. “Actually, those are the very things that are required of you.”

“What do you mean?” Thor asked, now intrigued.

“We will discuss that at the Council meeting...”

“We will discuss it  _now_ , Wendell. I do not like going into battle unprepared.”

“For Cinderella’s sake, it’s not a battle we’re planning! It’s a step towards peace.” Wendell's gaze narrowed shrewdly. “You will enjoy it, I think. The challenge. The... _adventure_.”

One of Thor's eyebrows rose in interest. “Go on...”

“What is the one kingdom of the Nine that you have never been able to explore?”

Thor gasped. “I cannot enter there! The Snow Queen has forbidden outsiders into the Eighth Kingdom! She is the most powerful sorceress in all the Nine and the magic barrier she raised around her borders thwart any attempt to enter there without her permission. Usually by dismemberment...or death.”

“Did you know that the Queen recently requested the Council Mages to fortify the barrier on our side?”

Thor was taken aback; the Snow Queen was a formidable force unto herself; that she would ask the Nine Kingdoms Council for help was unfathomable. “Why would she do that?”

“I think she feels threatened,” Wendell mused out loud.

“But to fortify the barrier from _outside_ her kingdom?” Thor snapped his fingers. “Oh! The threat is from within?”

“We in the Council think so,” Wendell said. “Perhaps someone should go...investigate.”

Thor raised a dubious brow at Wendell’s atrocious lack of subtlety. “She will not let me in.”

“What if I told you that she could be convinced otherwise?” Wendell asked, looking too smug for his own good.

“I’d say you're a lying sack of shite!”

“I am the King of the Fourth Kingdom!” Wendell yelled. “Have a care how you speak to me!”

“Fine, so you're a lying sack of  _royal_  shite, then. What of it?”

Wendell drew in a deep calming breath. “There is a plan in the works.”

“What sort of plan?”

“One that involves you since most of your other siblings in line for the throne are already married.”

Thor froze. “What?”

The utter lack of inflection in his voice had Wendell – wisely – taking one and then several steps back. “Now, Thor...”

“Do you think...” Thor growled, stepping menacingly closer, “...that just because I am one of the First Kingdom, and the grandson of the Great Queen Cinderella, that my head is filled with notions of  _love_ and  _marriage_?” He spat the words as if they were poison on his tongue.

“Well,” Wendell said, shrugging, “er... _yes_.”

“You'd be wrong!” Thor bellowed. 

Wendell cringed in the corner that Thor had backed him in to. “To be fair, Thor, I did not know that! Your entire Kingdom breathes, eats, and sleeps ‘love and marriage’.”

“And  _divorce_ ,” Thor thundered, unable to modulate the sound of his voice if Wendell’s jumping had anything to do with it. Thor huffed in annoyance as he gave Wendell his space and slumped against the wall beside him, staring forlornly at the ceiling. “Whatever happened to the sort of True Love that captures your heart _slowly_ , over time, so you can weigh all the pros and cons of a relationship and then proceed with caution, if you both so wish? The kind of love that makes your pulse race, but _unhurriedly_ , so you know it’s not because you’re having a heart attack, or...indigestion. A love that bestows stars in your eyes, not at first glance, but _gradually_ , and then swells and grows and strengthens steadily over the years and eventually lasts an eternity?”

Wendell blinked. “I had no idea that’s how you felt about...love.”

Thor huffed. “My people have made a mockery of love by tumbling into marriage so fecklessly! In but a moment of meeting, it’s ‘love at first sight’ – a load of hogwash, if you ask me! – and, as a result, every one of us has evil step-siblings! I mean, some of them are all right but most of them are rotten to their core! I have at least seventeen...no, wait...nineteen! I have seventeen evil step-siblings and _two_ nice ones! Those are not good odds!” 

Wendell rubbed his temples wearily. “But...nothing has ever brought together warring kingdoms like marriage.”

“I am not getting married to stop a war, Wendell!” Thor shouted.

“Even if it is to a Princess of the Eighth Kingdom?” Wendell asked slyly. 

Thor's mouth snapped shut on an insult. “The  _Eighth_  Kingdom, you say?”

Wendell appeared to be schooling his features to one of considerably less self-satisfaction. “Aye, the Eighth Kingdom. The Snow Queen has three daughters of renowned beauty, as you may be aware: Princesses Hela, Amora, and Lorelei.  I can get you an invitation into their Kingdom and you can go there under the guise of wedding one of them.”

“And then report back on my ‘investigation’?”

“Indeed.”

“And I would not really have to marry one of them?”

“Not if you don’t want to, but it might help you gain their trust,” Wendell remarked, a cunning glint in his eye. “Then again, they are the only Princesses of the Nine that you have not yet met. Perhaps one of them is truly your match.”

He had a point, Thor thought, giving him a sidelong glance. “This sounds like a heroic sort of quest. Why are  _you_ not proposing to wed one of them?”

Wendell cleared his throat. “That...was under consideration.”

Thor raised an eyebrow at him. 

Wendell winced. “Er...they have a bit of a reputation.”

“What sort of a reputation?”

“Vaguely evil?”

Thor snorted. “Yet you would throw _me_ to their mercy.”

“You’re a lot more resilient than me,” Wendell reluctantly admitted. “Still, these are rumours. I am trying to get to some truths.”

“What truths?”

“Truths about the Princesses,” Wendell told him. Then he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “The ball is really about gathering together all the eligible Princes Charming of the Nine. They will then be...assessed...for their suitability as, well, potential suitors for the Princesses of the Eighth. And for Sleeping Beauty. Because we have multiple issues to deal with. You just happen to top both those lists...”

Thor waved his hand dismissively. “I top everything.”

“Yes, yes. You’re perfect in every way; moving on. My point is: you will ruin our plans if you leave now. Also, it will make me look bad, so please stay,” Wendell entreated.

Thor rolled his eyes. “This is nonsense. You really make the worst King. And then they also go and make you the head of the Nine Kingdoms Council.”

“Thor, be reasonable...” 

“Oh, I am,” Thor said, breathing deeply to calm himself. It would not do to start a war with the Fourth Kingdom because their new King was an idiot. Besides, he usually considered Wendell a friend. Sometimes. Maybe just on Wednesdays. Today was Thursday, though, and Thor had had enough. “I don’t like being used, Wendell. If you want me to spy on the Eighth Kingdom, I will. But none of this marriage business. If I ever marry, it will be because _I_ want to – not because the Council wills it. And it will be with someone who captures my heart. _Slowly!_ And over _plenty_ of time. Every head in the Nine overflows with fantasies of falling in love at the drop of a hat, and I don’t trust that! I will take my leave.”

“Thor, please stay!” Wendell begged, scurrying after Thor who indignantly and resolutely stalked away.

However, neither of them got very far, for the double doors to the ballroom were suddenly pushed open and...

Thor froze in his tracks, and the whole world slowed to a stop.

For standing before him was the most beautiful person his eyes had ever beheld in all his thirty years of life.

The newcomer looked to Wendell first, but then his gaze collided with Thor’s. Their eyes caught and held, as if snagged most delightfully, and neither were able to look away.

The young man was tall, almost of a height with Thor which was practically unheard of unless one was a Troll or had giant-blood in their veins, and this man was far too attractive to even be the tiniest part troll.

He was slender but well-muscled under his attire, his body looked lithe but taut, and wiry but sturdy. In fact, everything about him looked to be...pulled tight. Constricted. He was strikingly dressed in supple leather garments – tunic and trousers, cape and knee-high boots, all in black and various shades of blue – but they were snug about his frame and showed off his figure to perfection: broad shoulders, strong arms ending in slim wrists and elegant fingers, a defined chest tapering to a trim waist and narrow hips, firm thighs and sweetly rounded calves. Thor couldn’t see his feet but he’d wager that they were probably perfect. In fact, he’d stake his crown on a bet that the man before him had the cutest toes.

Oh, but he was glorious and Thor hadn't even considered his face yet. 

And what a stunning face it was, Thor thought when he looked closer: angular, sharp features, and unmarred ivory skin that looked far too soft to adorn a man’s face; long hair as black and shiny as a raven's wing, intricately braided with an end curling lovingly over one collarbone and coming to rest beneath a chiselled jaw; a pert straight nose that Thor itched to nuzzle with his own; soft rosy lips parted as though to speak sweet words but found that they were frozen upon his tongue as he stared back at Thor with exquisite eyes the colour of the crystal clear pools high up in the mountains of the First Kingdom, a cool green reminiscent of sparkling emeralds.

Thor had never before seen someone so exquisite and regal and beyond ethereal in their beauty.

“Ohhh...” Thor marvelled on a soft exhale, his feet taking him closer to the winsome stranger without prior consent from his brain. Not that Thor minded in the least. His hand, too, moved as if of its own accord, capturing the other man's hand, Thor's rough and calloused skin brushing in the lightest, most delicate of touches against his satin-smooth skin as Thor raised his hand for a kiss.

The moment Thor's lips touched the back of his hand, the man snatched it back, hackles rising in righteous fury as he glared at Thor for taking such awful liberties uninvited. It was shameful behaviour on Thor's part, yes, for he was a Prince – indeed one of the Charming ones – and should've known better. But how was he supposed to function in the face of such perfection?

“I  _beg_  your pardon!” the man snapped, his tone outraged, his voice husky and full of scorn and yet, to Thor’s ears, it sounded as if he'd just spouted the first words to a sonnet.

“You beg for nothing,” Thor replied, unable to help himself, and then wanted to smack his own face at the stupidity of his words.

The man huffed disdainfully, dismissing him and his idiocy and not even deigning to respond. He turned instead to Wendell and smiled.

Thor would have sworn on his grandmother's throne that the room instantly brightened with that smile, small as it was, becoming lush and golden and, in the distance, surely everyone heard the sound of angels singing a joyous hymn.

“Your majesty,” the man greeted Wendell. “I was told I would find you here.”

Wendell beamed, arms opening wide to welcome the stranger. “Your highness, I am delighted beyond measure to welcome you to the Fourth Kingdom!” They clasped hands in a gesture of goodwill as Thor scrambled to think of who this man could be, and from what Kingdom he’d hailed. Then Wendell frowned. “But why was I not informed of your arrival? I would have greeted you outside, with all the pomp and ceremony befitting the momentous arrival of the Prince of the Eighth Kingdom!”

Thor gasped softly, blinking in his shock. Stories of the elusive Eighth Kingdom were always few and far between, and he'd had no idea that the young Prince Loki had even come of age. 

And come of age so splendidly... _well_.

“I did not want any ceremony, your majesty,” Prince Loki said. “I come now only to seek a private audience with you before the ball tomorrow; I cannot stay for the Council meeting. My mother is still wary of any involvement in the Nine Kingdoms Council as you are well aware.”

“And yet, here  _you_  are, your highness. As her Emissary, no less. Surely that means she is thawing towards us?” Wendell probed, somewhat slyly if anyone had asked Thor. No one did, of course, and it irked him. Because this exquisite creature, this extraordinary being, this Prince of _his_ dreams was...ignoring him soundly. That never happened; when Thor was in a room, he was used to all eyes being on him, and all jaws dragging across the floor as men and women drooled over him in equal measure.

“Ah,” Prince Loki smiled cunningly as he affected an elegant shrug. “I cannot comment for the Queen, but I have my own agenda.”

“Do tell,” Wendell urged.

At last, Loki looked pointedly over his shoulder at Thor. “Not with him in the room.” He arched a single eyebrow in contempt. “I do not speak of such matters in the company of servants.”

Wendell sputtered, his startled gaze snapping to Thor as if to head off the offence of those spoken words before they reached Thor's ears.

Had it been anyone else uttering such an insult, Thor would've been well within his rights to cut out their tongue. But this was no ordinary man and so, Thor let it slide, the Prince's words merely bringing an amused smile to his face. 

Wendell let out a relieved breath but still frowned at the young Prince disapprovingly. “I'll have you know, your highness, that this is the grandson of the Great Queen Cinderella, Prince Thor of the First Kingdom. He’s on the list!”

“Oh,” Prince Loki muttered, jade eyes widening a fraction in surprise. “So, _he_ is the favoured candidate to entice one of my sisters?” 

Wendell nodded. “Yes, indeed. Thor is one of the most eligible bachelors in the Nine Kingdoms.”

“The  _most_ ,” Thor corrected Wendell with a self-assured grin aimed right at Prince Loki. “I am  _the_  most eligible bachelor in the Nine Kingdoms. Three years running now. There was an official proclamation and everything.” 

“Only _three_ years?” The young Prince asked, all too innocently, as he gave Thor’s undoubtedly unroyal attire a mocking onceover. “However did you accomplish that? What did you do? Hammer throw your competition into the sea?”

“I would never stoop so low as to gain an unfair advantage. That was merely when I started working out; I had a growth spurt,” Thor told him, grinning unrepentantly as he flexed his arms. “Although, the hammer throw _is_ my speciality.”

Prince Loki raised that elegant eyebrow of his as he took in Thor's form again from head to toe. “Indeed.”

“Impressed?” Thor asked, still smiling and flexing.

“Not in the slightest,” the Prince sneered.

He was lying through his perfectly white teeth, of course; he had to be; everyone and their wicked step-mother was impressed by Thor. The Prince’s reaction to him rendered him practically giddy with excitement. Never had he met such a delightfully contrary creature and it intrigued him no end. Usually, people fell all over themselves to please him; sycophants, the lot of them. With Prince Loki, it was the very opposite. Every insult out of his mouth was like poetry to Thor's ears, and he thought he could gladly listen to those dulcet tones malign him every day for the rest of his life.

“Er...” Wendell started, looking bewildered at their exchange. “Thor really is very popular – maybe too popular for his own good – but he is truly very sought after.”

“I can't imagine why,” Prince Loki muttered. He narrowed his eyes at Thor. “And how many times have you been wed before,  _Prince_  Thor?” he asked, derision dripping from his voice as he used Thor's title for the first time. 

Thor, as he was wont to do ever since he'd first laid eyes on Prince Loki mere seconds ago though it seemed like a tiny lifetime, only focussed on the fact that this was also the first time he'd heard his name upon the Prince's lips.

Oh, what a sound it was; he wanted to hear it again and again, in every tone and iteration; he wanted to hear it in the morning when he first woke and at night before he succumbed to slumber; he wanted to hear it in anger and in love, impassioned and annoyed, sweet and tremulous, and loud and obscene. 

He could barely breathe for how much he... _wanted_.

Wendell, who'd apparently been waiting for Thor to speak, instead spoke for him. “Thor has never been married.”

Prince Loki gave an elegant little snort of disbelief. “Of age, from the  _First_  Kingdom, and never married? Impossible!”

“Granted, the peoples of the First Kingdom do have a great propensity for falling in love...” Wendell started, his tone placating.

“Willy-nilly,” Prince Loki added, with a pointed glance in Thor's direction. “They have a great propensity for falling in love willy-nilly, marrying in haste, and divorcing at leisure!”

Wendell cleared his throat, still striving for diplomacy. “Really, your highness!”

Thor decided to put him out of his misery. “We do have that reputation, I will concede,” he said gamely. “But _I_ have yet to surrender to the wiles of True Love.”

“Now that  _is_  impressive,” Prince Loki replied, sounding anything but impressed. “I suppose then that you have lovers littered across the Eight Kingdoms?”

Thor smirked. “You seem quite preoccupied with my love life.”

Prince Loki scoffed. “You mistake my interest. My intention is merely to discern if you are a worthy suitor for one of my sisters.”

“And your conclusion?”

“Wholly  _un_ worthy,” the Prince said, as if in challenge.

Thor chose not to rise to it, but Wendell gasped at the affront. “Your highness, I really must object to your cavalier and careless insults to Prince Thor! He truly is one of the most...”

“ _The_  most...” Thor reminded Wendell with a smirk, his gaze never leaving Prince Loki's face.

Wendell huffed. “Really, Thor? Might I remind you that I am eminently more eligible than you, seeing as I am already King and you are still a Prince!”

“You became King mere months ago, Wendell,” Thor felt compelled to remind him; truly his memory was atrocious. “Whereas I have been the Prince of Dreams for three years now.”

“Argh, fine!” Wendell acquiesced. “The point is that Thor is one of the worthiest suitors any Princess could ever ask for!”

“Not for Princesses of the Eighth Kingdom!” Prince Loki spat derisively, not taking his eyes off Thor. “You will not last a day!”

That brought a dangerous smile to Thor's face; a challenge accepted. “Do you know what else I am known for, my Prince?”

Prince Loki looked at little startled, whether at the question or the moniker though, Thor couldn't be sure. “No, and I do not care to know.”

Thor told him anyway, edging closer as he spoke, like a hunter stalking his prey. “I am the  _mightiest_  warrior in all the Nine Kingdoms.”

Prince Loki outright laughed at that and, whether he meant to or not, he took a step back from Thor. “How can you claim such a title when you have never set foot in the Eighth Kingdom?”

Thor advanced a step; Prince Loki took another step back. “Allow me to enter your Kingdom then,” Thor drawled, his voice dipping deep and low as he captured the Prince's gaze and sought to hold it in his thrall. “I will prove to you my worth. And my might.”

“You will need more than _might_  to court my sisters!” the Prince exclaimed, sputtering and stepping up against the wall. He held firm despite being literally backed into an immovable object with Thor’s irresistible force right in front of him. Prince Loki raised his chin in challenge. “You will need _magic_ , and I don't detect that in you.”

Thor stopped moving forward only when his chest was a mere inch or two from the Prince's. He rested one hand on the wall by the Prince’s waist. “I have a mighty magic axe.”

“A mere toy!” the Prince scoffed.

“I also have a very powerful fairy godfather.”

“Each of my sisters are more powerful than you could ever imagine. One misstep and my sisters will flay the flesh from your bones, detach your head from your shoulders, and mount it on a spike from the highest rampart of the Ice Castle for all to see. And all before your fairy godfather figures out a way into our Kingdom!”

Thor blinked. “Quite an interesting and bloodthirsty family you have.” He gazed shrewdly into the Prince's incensed eyes. “If I didn't know any better, I would almost think that you were trying to dissuade...nay,  _warn_  me away from your sisters.”

“Give the man a prize,” the Prince muttered.

Thor smiled, his heart warming with affection. “You care about my well-being.”

“Please,” Prince Loki mocked, rolling his eyes. “I just don't want to start a war. That is why we are all here, is it not? To put an end to my sisters’ thirst for dominion over all the Nine Kingdoms?” He looked to Wendell. “You wanted to know my agenda – well, here it is: It has taken me this long since I came of age three years ago for my mother to let me out of our kingdom! And that too, only for a few days. I want to travel the Nine and learn more about the other kingdoms! I long for the opportunity and freedom to find my own way in the world – to seek adventure and solace and love and, yes, even a little mischief! If my sisters get their way, apart from the obvious havoc they will wreak, all those paths will be shut to me, and to my people. Call me selfish, but that is the last thing I want!”

Wendell hummed in thought; Thor had quite forgotten his existence while he’d listened to Loki speak. For, suddenly and most fervently, he wanted very much for Loki to be able to do all those things he wanted to do, just so long as he let Thor tag along for the ride.

At long last, Wendell spoke. “You’re quite right, Loki. We have, all of us, had the opportunity to write our own stories; and so should you. Granted, the Princesses of the Nine often have much more interesting stories than us Princes, and we are usually relegated to just being the Charming Ones, but who’s to say that that cannot change? Maybe someday soon, one of _our_ tales will be what children ask to hear at bedtime! If that is truly what you wish, then you should have it!” He gave Loki’s shoulder a friendly squeeze before gingerly reaching out and doing the same to Thor. “A war in the Nine would destroy _all_ our stories, and we cannot have that. Even the Snow Queen is in agreement! None of us want a war!” He paused. “Well, except maybe for Loki's sisters.”

“Except _definitely_ for my sisters,” the Prince agreed, sighing softly, his warm minty breath fanning distractingly across Thor's cheek for Thor had edged unknowingly closer to him as Wendell had spoken and Prince Loki had, unknowingly or knowingly, allowed it. ~~~~

“Which is why we need to rein them in, one by one,” Wendell added.

“I still think marriage to be a foolish plan,” Prince Loki told him.

“But it's worked before! True Love always conquers all, it vanquishes even the vilest of all evils; why, it is the very foundation upon which our Kingdoms were built,” Wendell argued. “And it may be the only option we have that won't end in violence and death and destruction!”

Prince Loki sighed again, disheartened, and it was all Thor could to not to gather him up in his arms and cuddle him. “Oh, that is exactly how it will end, Wendell; we just need to find someone – well, three someones – who will be able to fight it and keep it within the boundaries of our Kingdom.”

Wendell drew the Prince's gaze pointedly to Thor, and then gave his enormous bicep a squeeze. “I think we have a contender here.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Prince Loki said, sighing, though he looked as if he really wanted to disagree. “I’m tasked with finding at least six contenders, all of whom will go through a series of trials. My sisters will set these trials to test their worthiness and mettle.”

“I have to say, that does sound like great sport!” Thor interjected excitedly, for he did love a good battle; he just wasn’t too enthused about the prize at the end.

“It is not ‘sport’ if the endgame is death, you brute!” the Prince raged. “If you survive, you will earn the hand of one of my sister’s in marriage, and that will be the beginning of _your_ end; you can kiss your Happily Ever After goodbye!”

Wendell gasped like that was the worst thing in the world. “I had no idea that is what the candidates had in store for them! Will they have to fight each other?”

“I confess I know nothing of the details of my sisters’ plans, but it does sound like something that would amuse them,” the Prince told them. “All I know for certain is that they’re guaranteed to be heinous, as is the case with all their plans.” He turned his captivating green gaze in Thor's direction again. “So, knowing what you now know, if you were to enter the competition, which of my sisters would you wish to court? Impress them and they might lend you the means with which to win the competition.”

Thor did not wish to court any of Prince Loki’s sisters, not when he had so much enticement right in front of his very eyes; but he kept that thought to himself for the moment. He hummed as he strove to recall the names of the Princesses of the Eighth Kingdom. “Winning with an unfair advantage is not winning at all,” he said. “But if I had to choose, perhaps I would choose Hela,” he said, speaking of the oldest. “I believe she is closest to my age.”

Prince Loki snorted. “Hela is evil incarnate. She will have you thrown into the deepest dungeons of the castle before you could even utter your first words to her. She will break your spirit and your will to live. A suitor would need to be just as vile to capture her attention, and I'm not too proud to say that I am not strong enough to protect you from her ire.”

“That you would even _think_ to protect me from her evil machinations gladdens my heart greatly,” Thor assured him.He didn’t sound breathless and giddy about it. He _didn’t_.

Prince Loki blinked at him in disbelief. “You're absurd! Truly! You are the most absurd individual I have ever had the misfortune to meet!”

Thor felt one side of his mouth lifting in a smile; he viciously tamped it down and pondered aloud: “Amora, then,” he said, speaking of the next eldest of the sisters.

“Amora is a powerful enchantress. She will bewitch you and lock you in the highest tower of the castle and torture you mercilessly with her particular brand of ‘love’ until your dying day,” Prince Loki spat. When Thor merely looked amused, he continued, his face flushed and indignant. “And you are just her type! She will break your body for her amusement and pleasure and, your feeble mind, under her spell, will just crave more. I may be able to fend her off long enough for you to escape but, once she's had a taste of you, she will not rest until she captures you again.” He sniffed, a picture in affected nonchalance. “So there.”

Wendell looked like he might faint with fright, but Thor merely hummed as if seriously considering his choices.  “And Lorelei?”

Prince Loki rolled his eyes. “Lorelei is also an enchantress. She is not as skilled as Amora – yet – but she doesn't need to be because she has a pet dragon. Do you hear that? A  _pet_  dragon! She will bewitch you and secret you away in her ice maze. She will then set her dragon on you for sport. She will toy with you like a cat with a mouse and you will probably die a horrible death, roasted on a spit! Is that what you want?”

Thor shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly, thoroughly distracted by the rosy hue of the Prince's cheeks, the emerald flame in his eyes, and his righteous fury. “Could you protect me from her? And her dragon?”

“Of course I could,” the Prince drawled scornfully. “Although if you continue to try my patience, I just might let her dragon have you; at least that would get you out of my hair.”

Thor couldn't help himself; he wound that tantalising curl of the Prince's silky hair – that had laid against his collarbone taunting Thor all this while – around his finger. “Aye, you wouldn't want anything to mess with the perfection of your raven locks.”

The Prince's breath appeared to hitch in his chest. He shook off Thor’s hand. “So, do you agree then that this plan is an immensely stupid one?”

“I'm convinced,” Wendell said, startling them both a bit as they were yet again suddenly reminded of his presence. “We’ll send Thor off to the Sixth Kingdom to try and get to Sleeping Beauty instead. I mean, yes, there are perils galore, beginning with the Thorn Wall and all the other enchantments surrounding her but, he has his axe, I’m sure he’ll get through! Problem solved.”

Prince Loki blinked, his mouth hanging open just a tad. “Sleeping...Beauty?”

Wendell nodded. “It’s been ninety-nine years. If someone doesn’t wake up Princess Aurora soon, there’s a fifty-fifty chance that the whole kingdom could disappear off the map. Or the curse could be broken, but who wants to take that chance? We’ve only a year left to try! If we don’t do something soon, many lives could be lost! Queen Rapunzel and her people who share that Kingdom, in addition to Princess Aurora and her people!”

Thor sighed in sudden understanding. “You’ve been talking to my grandmother, haven’t you? She is ever trying to marry me off.”

Wendell had the grace to look sheepish. “She did suggest you for both these quests.”

“Where is your backbone, Wendell?” Thor asked in disappointment.

“She is very persuasive!”

“I don’t care how persuasive she is, I’m not about to barge into the Sixth and go kiss an unconscious woman without her consent!” Thor exclaimed.

“Fine, fine,” Wendell conceded, rubbing his temples. “Maybe we can convince the Snow Queen to allow Loki to give it a go.”

Before Thor could punch Wendell for even suggesting such an outrageous thing, Prince Loki said coldly: “I’m loath to say this, but I’m with him on the kissing an unconscious woman without her consent.”

“ _Someone_ has to kiss her!”

“Why don’t you do it, Wendell?” Thor suggested.

“I’ve tried,” Wendell muttered. “I couldn’t make it past the thorns.”

The corner of Thor’s mouth twitched. “Too delicate?”

“I have sensitive skin!” Wendell snapped.

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Prince Loki asked. “I think trying to stop my sisters from kingdom-wide warfare takes precedence over a slumbering princess, yes?”

“Yes,” Wendell agreed, sighing. “Let's move on to Plan B.”

“What's Plan B?” Both the Prince and Thor asked in unison.

“I have not thought of it yet but I'm sure it'll come to me,” Wendell proclaimed airily, turning away to leave the ballroom as he called out. “Come along, chaps. I think it's high time for tea and scones. With maybe a little brandy. Actually, make that a lot of brandy. You know what? Let’s skip the tea and just go with the brandy.”

Thor looked at the Ice Prince and rolled his eyes. “He saves the Nine Kingdoms from certain death and destruction  _once_  and suddenly he thinks he's invincible.” The Prince smirked and Thor willed himself to remember to breathe upon seeing that smallest of smiles. He leaned in the barest inch closer. “And what of you, my Prince?”

“What about me?” he asked, his lush dark eyelashes fluttering as he tried not to gaze up at Thor and failed miserably. ~~~~

His voice dropped an octave. “If I were to approach _you_  as a suitor, what would I have to fear from you?”

Prince Loki drew in shaky breath and exhaled slowly, eyes flashing emerald fire as he stared up at Thor. His voice, when he spoke, was husky and quietly menacing; it sent delicious little shivers sparking down Thor's spine. “I am a sorcerer.”

“You have certainly enchanted me.”

“You are a fool!”

“I will gladly be a fool for you.”

Prince Loki frowned and, try as he might, he could not disguise how flustered he was. “I'm very powerful, you know!”

“Oh, I know; I felt it the moment I saw you,” Thor whispered breathlessly, leaning in closer. “I have never felt so power _less_ as I do now.”

The Prince’s gaze dropped to Thor’s mouth and then tracked back to become ensnared in his undoubtedly heated gaze. Thor moved in a fraction of an inch closer; it made Prince Loki almost pant as he spoke. “I am a trickster. A liesmith. I cheat; I deceive. You would never know if I was being true to you. In fact, I would  _not_ be true to you! I would take lovers. Several of them. A different one every day, and you would be humiliated in the eyes of the court but you would never really  _know_.”

Thor smiled, slow and sure. “I would know.”

“No, you wouldn't,” the Prince insisted, looking like he wished to stamp his foot for emphasis. “Not unless I paraded them in front of you. Which I would do! Happily!”

“If that’s what made you happy, then I suppose I would have to live with it, because I find that making you happy is suddenly of great import to me,” Thor told him, leaning in further, and resting his forearm on the wall just above the Prince’s head; his chest brushed against Thor’s as it heaved. “Or else, I would just have to satisfy you so wholly and completely that you would be too sated and far too exhausted to leave our bed and seek your pleasure in the body of another,” Thor drawled, enjoying the colour rising in Prince Loki’s lovely cheeks as he gasped in outrage. 

“Mind your tongue!”

“Oh, I  _will_. That I promise you; you will have no complaints about my tongue at all. Or my hands, or my...other parts,” Thor murmured with a cheeky wink that had the Prince gritting his teeth. “What else?”

“I am an expert knivesman,” Prince Loki bragged, snarling like a caged animal. “I conjure blades. Ice blades. I would stab you; I would carve intricate patterns into your skin. Repeatedly. Just for my own pleasure. And your pain, of course.”

“Of course,” Thor said amiably. “Anything else?”

His opponent in this battle of wills huffed in annoyance. “I am a master shapeshifter! I can turn myself into many animals, but my speciality...” the Prince said, pausing for effect as he smiled threateningly, “...is snakes.”

Thor brightened. “I  _love_  snakes!”

The smile slipped from the Prince's face. “You what?”

“Snakes,” Thor told him, “are my favourite creatures. Whenever I see one, I cannot resist! I  _have_  to pick them up so that I may admire their beauty.”

Prince Loki blinked in incredulity. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Very,” Thor assured him, dipping his head closer and his voice lower as he whispered in the Prince's ear: “I love the feeling of their lithe bodies, like cool satin upon your skin, writhing as they seek the heat from your body, wrapping themselves around you and squeezing tight...”

The Prince gave a full body shudder. “And do you also love when they sink their venomous fangs into your flesh?” he asked, his tone snippy but his voice tremulous. There was a sheen of sweat forming just above his upper lip that Thor wanted to lick off.

“I'm not too fond of their venom,” Thor conceded.

The Prince rolled his eyes. “Idiot. I sincerely hope, for the future of the First Kingdom, that you don't go around picking up snakes willy-nilly.”

“I do actually,” Thor admitted with a bashful chuckle. “That's the reason I haven't held the mantle of most eligible bachelor in the Nine Kingdoms for longer.” 

Genuine curiosity clouded the Prince's eyes but he seemed loath to ask. Fortunately for Thor, he asked anyway. “What do you mean?”

“I stumbled across a basilisk once...”

The Prince gasped in horror. “A basilisk is no mere snake! Of all the foolish...”

“It was just a  _baby_ basilisk!”

“Those are as big as pythons! Huge pythons! They are  _gargantuan_  pythons!”

“Exactly why I went to pick it up. I'd never seen one before and it was adorable!”

Prince Loki’s eyes goggled. “You absolute imbecile! How are you still alive?” He actually whacked him in the chest; Thor savoured his touch, because then the Prince just...left his hand there, on Thor’s chest, like he’d forgotten it was there.

Thor was not about to draw attention to it, especially not when the heat of his palm was warming Thor’s heart.

“I was curious,” Thor said, shrugging; he truly was lucky to be alive. “It bit me.”

“No shit!” the Prince snapped crudely. “Seriously, how are you not dead?”

“Powerful – and long-suffering – fairy godfather, remember? He put me into a deep sleep until he could scour the Nine Kingdoms for a cure. It took him ten years.”

“You were in an enchanted sleep for  _ten_  years?”

Thor nodded. “That's why I had to start working out; my muscles had withered to almost nothing.”

Prince Loki's gaze fell to the muscles in Thor's chest and arms. He cleared his throat. “You appear to have recovered...well.”

“Why thank you, my Prince,” Thor drawled, smirking. 

The Prince squinted up at him, the look in his lovely eyes shrewd. “Your fairy godfather wouldn't happen to be Heimdall The Seer, would he?”

Thor blinked in surprise. “Aye, he is the very one.”

Prince Loki grinned and Thor was momentarily dazzled and robbed of his breath by that smile. “Then you really do owe me your thanks, your highness,” he said. “Not to mention your life.”

“I...  _What?_ ”

The Prince snorted. “ _I_  am the one who discovered and brewed that antidote for you; it took me three years, it was so finicky. Heimdall refused to tell me who it was for.”

“ _You?_  You did that?” Thor was well and truly shocked. Heimdall had only said that he'd been sworn to secrecy when asked about the antidote's origins. “How is that possible?”

“Our paths crossed. I was walking the borders of my Kingdom. He was walking in the Seventh Kingdom when dawn broke; that Kingdom appeared out of the mists and he with it.” The Prince stared at Thor for what seemed like a small eternity, his eyes raking over every inch of Thor’s face before he let out a little sigh. “He offered me a generous boon if I helped him. So, I did.”

Thor reached out and captured the hand the Prince had rested on his heart, turning it over to press a sweet, lingering kiss into his warm palm as he kept his eyes fixed on his face. “I thank you, Prince Loki of the Eighth Kingdom, for saving my life.”

Prince Loki stared at Thor for a breathless second before glancing down at his hand, still clasped warmly in Thor's gentle grip. “You're welcome,” he responded, imperiously but genuinely at the same time.

“It appears that I am in your debt.”

Prince Loki's eyes flashed back at him, the look in them cunning. “Then agree that you will not attempt to court any of my sisters and I shall consider your debt repaid.”

“I do not think that anything could erase a life debt, my Prince, but that is an easy enough concession to make,” Thor said, merriment in his own gaze no doubt. “I shall just have to court  _you_  instead.”

And with a final kiss to his hand, Thor left, leaving Prince Loki in his wake, eyes wide, jaw dropped, and speechless with shock.

 

*** * ***


	2. Chapter 2

  

“Oh no, not you again,” Loki muttered as he walked into the dining room for breakfast the next morning and saw Prince Thor. If he hadn't been so hungry, he would've made his escape immediately.

Thor smirked at him in that vexing way of his, as if he was privy to all the inner workings of Loki's mind.

Loki was suddenly very thankful that Thor didn’t have a magical bone in his body.

“A very merry morning to you too, my Prince,” he said.

“It was until you showed up,” Loki muttered, taking the seat closest to the door just in case he needed to make a swift escape. 

Thor came to stand far too close to him. Then he proceeded to grasp Loki's hand and press a warm little kiss to his fingers before taking the seat at the table next to him. So presumptuous. Loki's fingers tingled. He ignored it.

If he thought Prince Thor looked well yesterday, he looked absolutely breathtaking this morning. Thor’s picture probably adorned every copy of every dictionary in the Nine Kingdoms, in pride of place right next to the word  _handsome_. And probably next to _sexy_ as well.

His sun-kissed skin was flawless, his eyes sparkled like cerulean gems, and his hair fell in glorious waves and curls about his shoulders, looking for all intents like gold spun from the spinning wheel of Rumpelstiltskin's bane, the miller's daughter. 

Loki sighed into his cup of bergamot-infused tea. Even the obnoxious idiot’s beard was perfect: perfectly trimmed, of a perfect shade on the spectrum between blond and brunet, and it made the perfect Prince look even more rakishly attractive. 

In appearances, Thor was the epitome of what a Prince Charming should look like; except with way more hair. And muscles. It was as if even his muscles had muscles, Loki mused as he surreptitiously studied the man's bare biceps in his sleeveless and rather tight brown leather tunic, on shameless display for everyone to see. 

How very base and uncouth. 

Loki tried to tear his eyes away but they insisted on following the smooth corded muscles of Thor’s upper arms down to his forearms that were, this morn, free of the vambraces he’d worn yesterday. Loki swallowed hard as he stared; wonderful; now it seemed he had a thing for forearms that he had heretofore not known about.

He tried not to whimper as his eyes traced down further, to strong wrists, sturdy hands and thick but elegant fingers that tapered into neatly manicured nails. Loki could not believe that even his hands were faultless, their veins standing out in a manner that was most attractive (and most inconsiderate, for now Loki was thoroughly distracted).

He wondered how those hands would feel taking even more liberties with his person than Thor had already taken thus far. The mere thought was enough to make him sweat.

Thor was as close to perfection as any Prince could get; certainly, he did the legendary House of Cinderella proud. Loki would know, being the very antithesis of everything a Prince Charming should be himself: straggly dark hair, skin so fair that he looked washed out and pasty, nondescript green eyes, and a too-thin body despite the muscles and strength he’d worked so hard to build.

He’d done his investigations in the library last night, though; Thor deserved the title of Prince of Dreams of the Nine Kingdoms. Even the now-King Wendell, as lovely as he was with his pretty face, soft dark blond curls, and fetching blue eyes, could not hold a candle to Thor.

But then, naturally, Thor opened his mouth to speak and all his so-called charm flew right out the window. 

“You know,” Thor teased, the smile on his face edging towards smug, “Wendell has artists on retainer. I could commission a miniature portrait of myself that you can keep with you. I think it would last longer; not, of course, that I mind your lingering gaze.”

Loki bared his teeth at Thor, snarling: “I was merely wondering what people see in you,” he lied venomously. “Prince of Dreams, my arse!”

Thor laughed. “I’d rather not think about your arse – delectable though I’m sure it is – at the breakfast table, my Prince.”

“Argh,” Loki groaned, appalled at his own lack of propriety. 

What a boor. What an outrageous, odious oaf. Loki hoped Thor’s less-than-royal decorum wouldn’t rub off on him anymore.

Honestly, the man repulsed him.

Or...Loki wished most fervently that he would. 

He lied to people and, very often, to himself – honing his skill over the years because, most days, those lies were his only defence – but he couldn't lie to himself in this. Thor intrigued him. Not only because of his looks, but because he had not dismissed Loki outright as people were wont to do when they first met him. He’d known instinctively that Thor was no servant, of course, his bearing was too proud. He hadn’t been sure of his identity, though, only the way Thor had studied him, like he was someone worth beholding, like he was... _fascinating_ , and not in any negative way.

More importantly, no one in his acquaintance had ever set his heart pounding in his chest and his blood racing through his veins the way Thor had done when he had him pressed up against the wall yesterday in the ballroom. 

Loki had had difficulty breathing then, and even now, just at the mere thought of it.

Thor was having the same effect on him in this very moment, even though he was sitting a respectable distance away. How in the Nine someone so boorish and odious and oafish and... _charming_...could capture his attention so thoroughly, Loki couldn’t fathom.

It _had_ to be magic; he’d no idea that his wish would accomplish this.

Perhaps, in a hundred years or so (for it was not about to happen anytime soon), he would forget how the smouldering blue flame in Thor's eyes and the rich gravelly tones of his low voice had made him feel. Were still making him feel.

Loki had left the room yesterday tingling... _everywhere_.

He was still tingling. His cheeks felt like they’d never regain their paleness. His heart beat against his ribs like a caged hummingbird. For someone who was usually the epitome of cool calm and icy reserve, as befitting a Prince of the Eighth Kingdom, he felt decidedly flustered by Thor. Heat had suffused his body like a fever, and he hadn't been able to shake it all night. He'd been restless and, what little sleep he'd had, had been fitful.

Loki shook his head in disgust at himself. Where was the restraint he’d always prided himself in? Where was his vaunted ironclad self-control? It gave him a headache thinking about it, so he instead helped himself to eggs, sausages, roasted cherry tomatoes, and toast. After a moment of consideration, he also heaped some delicious-looking cheesy potatoes onto his plate. At least without his sisters in attendance, he could eat what he wanted in peace and not have to listen to their jeers.

All the while, Thor stared at him, his chin propped up on his hand and his elbows on the table, the heathen. Whoever had been responsible for teaching him princely comportment should never work in the Nine again.

As Loki ate, with dainty little bites, he tried to ignore Thor's existence. However, it was nigh on impossible in the wake of so much wistfulness directed right at him.

“What _is_ it?” Loki asked, the last vestiges of his patience finally snapping. “Do you wish  _me_ to commission a portrait of myself for _you_?”

“Would you?” Thor asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not!”

“I didn’t think so. To be fair, I don’t think even the most gifted artist could ever capture your true likeness,” Thor said, sighing. “Pity, though. You are a vision of loveliness in the morning sunlight. I thought you stunning when I saw you yesterday in the shadows cast by the afternoon sun in the ballroom but, my Prince, the morning sun upon your face is a glorious look on you. I dare not even think how exquisite you would look bathed in moonlight; I don't believe my heart would withstand it.”

Loki scrubbed his palm down his face long-sufferingly. “Does anyone actually succumb to that?”

“To what?”

“Your flowery words and overzealous insincere compliments.”

“They are wholeheartedly sincere, and I wouldn't know,” Thor told him earnestly. “I am usually not so generous with my praise but, then again...I've never before beheld you.”

“You grow tiresome.”

“I speak only the truth, my Prince.”

“Oh, do stop calling me that, you fool!” Loki snapped. “I have a name.”

“And you would give me leave to use it?” Thor asked, looking like an eager puppy.

Loki nodded reluctantly. Better Thor call him by his name than his title; for every time he’d said it, a funny little frisson of awareness shot down Loki's spine.

It was getting irksome.

“Loki,” Thor whispered, almost reverently. 

Oh, damn him; if Loki's title had invoked an involuntary shiver, his name on Thor’s lips robbed him of his very breath; it sounded positively scandalous in the deep rich timbre of Thor's voice. Loki exhaled shakily; it felt like every hair on his body was standing on end; even his scalp prickled.

Loki shoved some potatoes into his mouth as a distraction. They were delicious but not at all diverting enough. His companion sighed again, eyes never leaving Loki's face.

Loki glared at him and Thor grinned back. “Will you not break your fast?”

“I am having my fill of you, sweet Prince.”

“Oh, shove it and eat something!” Loki sniped. 

“As you wish,” Thor said agreeably, a small smile playing about his lips as he began to pile a mountain of meats onto his plate. “I must say, I am very appreciative of your concern for my well-being.”

“You do not concern me; you are of no concern to me whatsoever! You are inconsequential and unimportant. I merely wished to shut you up. At least with food in your mouth, I don't have to listen to your drivel.”

“Ah,” Thor said, sounding like he was suppressing a laugh. “Of course; how silly of me.”

“Your silliness is well-established fact,” Loki muttered. “I still can't believe you picked up a basilisk.”

“ _Baby_  basilisk.” Thor reminded him with an unrepentant grin. “They're terribly cute and sweetly vicious. A bit like you, actually.”

Loki almost choked on his eggs in his outrage. Swallowing, he pointed his fork menacingly in Thor's direction. “I don't know what you are scheming, but I can assure you that I do not find it amusing!”

“Well, I can assure  _you_  that there is nothing funny about me wanting to court you. That's it – that's my 'scheme'. It could even be a  _fun_ scheming _,_  if you were to loosen up and let me woo you.”

“Who in the bloody Nine Kingdoms do you think you are to tell me to 'loosen' up? I am the Snow Prince! I am exactly how I’m meant to be.”

Thor shrugged. “You just look uncomfortable to me. Everything about you is pulled so tight – your clothes, your hair, your whole being. What are you so carefully shielding yourself from?”

He blinked at the First Prince – who, apparently, was not as dumb as he looked – in astonished silence. Loki was angry, but also wary of being exposed for what he really was: way out of his league. 

Prince Thor was older, more worldly, and well-loved throughout the Kingdoms. Loki, on the other hand, had yet to fully step out of the dark shadows cast by his mother and sisters.

He primly wiped his mouth with a serviette and pushed his chair back to rise from the table when Thor, looking contrite, laid a gentle hand on his arm. 

“I'm sorry,” Thor said softly. “I did not mean offense. Please, finish your breakfast.”

Loki stared down his nose at him. “You've ruined my appetite.”

“Apologies,” Thor said, sounding sincere. He pushed a plate of tartlets filled with custard and topped with ripe red berries towards Loki; they looked divine. “At least have a tart.”

Loki swallowed, holding his will with an iron fist. “I do not indulge in sweet things.”

“You should,” Thor said quietly, his thumb rubbing soothing little circles over the soft linen tunic sleeves covering Loki's forearms. “I had one yesterday at breakfast and they are delicious.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Thor bowed his head in deference to Loki’s request and went back to eating and, after a moment's deliberation, Loki pointedly pushed away the enticing plate of tarts and returned to his meal as well. 

In his head, he could almost hear Hela deriding him for even looking at the sweet treats; she had always mocked his puppy fat as a child every time he’d sat down for a meal. Amora took her cue from her older sister, only her taunts were usually accompanied by sharp pinches and pokes that often left bruises behind on his body. Lorelei had been too young to have much to say back when he was a child, but she made up for the lack of insults then by berating him plenty now.

Every meal Loki had ever had with his siblings had been a traumatic experience in his youth; now, he did the adult (and cowardly) thing and ate secreted in the safety in his rooms, far away from their scorn. Still, their old jibes had been so hurtful that they still prevented him from taking any pleasure in eating.

It was those memories that had him pushing away his plate again, half the food on it left uneaten. Thor looked thoroughly ashamed and Loki, feeling absurdly sorry for him, said: “It’s not you. I fear I’ve served too much for myself.”

Thor nodded, but it took Wendell breezing into the room for Loki to notice that Thor was still soothingly rubbing his arm. He pulled away as they both stood to greet the King.

“All preparations are in place for the ball tonight,” Wendell told them after they exchanged the customary greetings. He looked refreshed and excited. “It’s going to be a magnificent affair! The press will be here, Loki. They are most anxious to report on the fact that this is the first instance of an heir to the Eighth Kingdom attending such an event. Assuming, of course, that you have no objection?”

“I have no objection, Wendell,” Loki assured him. “Though I was under the impression that this would be a small gathering.”

“No, indeed!” Wendell said, surprised. “I stated very specifically in my missive to her majesty that we wanted to throw a grand ball in your honour!”

Loki blinked, utterly taken by surprise. Why had his mother kept that from him? Or had she kept that bit of information very deliberately not from him, but from his sisters? Yes, that made more sense. He nodded. “I am here as my mother’s Emissary and she has given me leave to go public with our willingness to extend our hand in informal friendship, if not in formal Council matters just yet.”

“Excellent!” Wendell exclaimed, beaming. He then turned a shrewd gaze at Thor. “You’re still here, I see, Thor.”

“You make it seem as if I’m not welcome, Wendell.”

“Nonsense! You know you are always welcome, my dear friend,” Wendell said. “I only ask because you were in such a hurry to leave yesterday.”

Thor glanced at Loki who, in turn, did his level best to ignore him. “I have found an incentive to stay,” he said.

Wendell chuckled as he clapped his hands. “I knew you would be enthralled at the prospect of a ball!”

“I am indeed enthralled,” Thor said in that low rumble of his. He caught Loki’s gaze and held it.

Loki shivered, able to look away only when Thor did first. He had quite lost his train of thought and it incensed him that this hulking golden brute could reduce him to such unintelligible depths.

“I have given some thought to what our Plan B should be,” Wendell said.

“Oh?” Loki asked, because that was all the speech he was currently capable of.

Wendell smiled at him, and it struck Loki quite suddenly that he was being a bit flirtatious. “Since your sisters are perhaps...not the easiest of prospective brides,” Wendell said solicitously, “I think we would all do much better to focus on the  _most_ eligible of the Snow Queen’s heirs.”

Loki frowned, wondering which of his sisters he meant. Probably Lorelei; everyone but Loki underestimated her and that was their first mistake. Loki opened his mouth to say so when Thor spoke.

“For once you are correct, Wendell,” Thor said, drawing himself up in such a way that, even seated, he seemed to occupy all the space in the room. It made Loki suddenly understand why Wendell had thought Thor so formidable a suitor for one of his sisters in the first place. “I have already declared my intent to court Prince Loki.”

Loki spat out the tea he’d been sipping, narrowly missing spraying Wendell in the face. 

“What?” Loki sputtered in unison with the King of the Fourth Kingdom.

Thor remained unfazed. “I would have  _you_ know, Wendell, as Prince Loki is already aware, that I declared my intention to court him yesterday.”

Wendell’s eyes goggled. “You only just met yesterday!”

“Surely you’ve heard of Love at First Sight?” Thor drawled, in that supremely confident manner he had that made Loki both want to swoon and upend the contents of the nearby teapot over Thor's head in equal measure. He thankfully did neither.

Wendell shot Thor a shrewd look. “I did not think you believed in Love at First Sight. Weren’t you, just yesterday, extolling to me the virtues of caution and restraint when it comes to love?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thor said, deadpan.

“Uh huh.” Wendell stared him down.

“People change, Wendell!” Thor burst out. “Besides, I am doing this by the book. I have offered courtship, you will note, not marriage!”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here!” Loki snapped at Thor before turning to Wendell. “Thor did declare his intent to court me, but I have not accepted his suit...”

 “Yet,” Thor interjected.

Loki glared at him. “Nor do I plan to,” he insisted.

His nemesis shrugged. “You are essentially being presented to the Nine Kingdoms Court for the first time at the ball tonight,” Thor said. “Trust me when I say that you will have offers in droves. I just wish you to remember who offered courtship to you first, Loki.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m merely being truthful.”

“You’re being delusional! Just because you appear to find sport in teasing me does not mean that others will follow your example. I am well aware that I am no great beauty to entice numerous offers of courtship all at once. The very idea is bizarre!”

“Actually, you’re rather lovely, Loki” Wendell told him, his tone and expression earnest. “Thor’s right. I think you will be the toast of the town.” He smiled a bit sheepishly at them both. “To be quite honest, I was also hoping to express my own intent to court you.”

Loki’s jaw dropped in shock as he stared at Wendell in utter disbelief. Thor, on the other hand, looked like he was mentally preparing himself to challenge Wendell to a duel. Loki snapped his mouth shut and smacked Thor’s hands – which had curled into fists on the tabletop – with a rolled-up serviette.

“Stop that!” Loki growled at him. “You are both being absolutely absurd! I am only here for another night; I leave in the morning. Somehow I doubt very much that I will have ‘droves of offers’ in that span of time!”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Wendell said.

“You are beautiful beyond measure,” Thor told him.

“You are a novelty; you’d be like a breath of fresh air at the ball,” Wendell continued.

“Every eye will be upon you this night,” Thor grumbled. “You can be certain mine will never leave you; if only to guard you against the nefarious intent of others.”

Loki smacked himself in the face, unable to stomach any more of this foolishness. He rose from the table and his companions stood as well. “You are both insane. I’m going to the library to peruse the Council’s files on the other potential ‘suitors’ for my sisters before I meet them tonight. I shall be there for the rest of the day until it is time to prepare for the ball. I do not wish to be disturbed by either of you and your preposterous ideas!” He pointed his finger in Thor’s face. “I mean it!”

He was about to righteously stalk out of the dining room when Thor grasped his hand. “We did not mean offense, Loki,” Thor said softly, pressing a tender kiss to Loki’s fingers. “Will you do me the honour of dancing with me tonight?”

Loki – fingers tingling, heart racing, and mind awhirl – nodded jerkily because there was nothing else for him to do lest he inadvertently insult all of the First Kingdom. 

“I would like to reserve a place in your dance card as well, Loki,” Wendell said with a hopeful grin.

Loki nodded at him as well and, snatching his hand back out of Thor’s light grip, he turned and fled the room.

 

*** * ***

 

Later that evening, Loki caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror as he stood in the anteroom to the ballroom, waiting to be announced by the Lord Chamberlain. There was a line of people ahead of him and still more people filing in behind him and he could feel their eyes on him, silently judging and perhaps wondering at his identity. He kept his head held high, though, wanting to make his mother and his Kingdom proud. 

In his clothing, at least, he knew that he (well, his mother’s tailor) had achieved a faultless look. He was dressed in the style of the ceremonial robes of his Kingdom, just in lighter fabrics to account for the summer heat that pervaded every land of the Nine but his own.

His long-sleeved aquamarine tunic (which, the tailor had assured him, was the exact shade of the glacial seas to the north of his kingdom, and apparently brought out his eyes) was made from a silk so fine that it was almost sheer. It shimmered when the light touched it – the way freshly fallen snow sparkled in the moonlight like diamond dust – and was trimmed in a lavish opalescent embroidery flawlessly depicting the myriad shapes of crystal snowflakes. It was high-collared at his nape, accentuating the length of his neck but, in the front, it was cut just low enough to bare where his collarbones met the dip in his throat. Its floor-length design opened at the front and sides, while its back fluttered elegantly as he walked, a concession for eschewing his customary cape. The material, though fitted tight enough that it made breathing a bit of a feat, was as light as air, and would showcase his body as he twirled on the dance floor, the tailor had said, with Loki’s mother nodding sagely in agreement. His trousers were black, in some sort of sateen fabric that glistened in the light, and they were so tight that Loki was glad he’d skipped lunch earlier that day. Finally, his feet were encased in brand new knee-high black boots of the finest leather; they pinched a bit and Loki sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t be nursing blisters by the end of the night.

When he arrived at the front of the line, he finally relented and glanced full on at his reflection in the mirror. The tailor had suggested leaving his hair unbraided for the ball, because it apparently made him look softer and less severe, and Loki had heeded his advice. In his reflection, there was not a hair out of place, he thought with some satisfaction; the spell he had recently learned was keeping his loose hair silkier and frizz-free. Silver and sapphire bracelets sat exactly where they were meant to, coiled aroundhis wrists and forearms, and over his sleeves so they blended flawlessly with the patterns of his tunic. Intricately designed silver rings adorned each of his fingers, some at the base and some at the knuckles. To top it all off, a white gold and diamond encrusted crown sparkled from where it sat on his head, held on by magic so that it would not dare slip. 

He was as ready as he’d ever be and then, suddenly, he was being announced: “His Royal Highness, Prince Loki Lucian Snow of the Eighth Kingdom.”

As he walked down an elegantly appointed staircase overlooking a ballroom packed with people, every eye turned to watch, and perfect, pin-drop silence greeted him.

Every insecurity and inadequacy that had ever plagued him in his life reared their ugly heads in those moments that he strove and struggled to put one foot in front of another as he walked down the stairs. His biggest fear was tripping and falling on his face. His breath caught in his throat as a nightmarish image of his sisters appeared at the bottom of the stairs, taunting him. It took a sheer force of will to keep his face impassive and his bearing regal. The stairs seemed endless, though, and what little breath he could take stuttered in his chest.

But then, just when he thought that his best option was turn and flee, all the way back to the comforting cold of his Kingdom, Thor appeared at the bottom of the stairs, Wendell at his side. The apparition of his sisters vanished as Thor nudged Wendell in Loki’s direction, though his gaze never wavered from Loki’s.

Wendell, bless him, actually ran up the last few stairs to take Loki’s hand and guide him down to solid ground.

“Welcome, Prince Loki, to the Fourth Kingdom!” Wendell declared loudly, bowing before Loki with a flourish. “I am beyond honoured that you accepted our invitation and, for tonight, I am your humble servant! Welcome, welcome, welcome!”

Loki bowed before the King in return. “Thank you for your kind invitation and warm welcome, your majesty,” Loki said smoothly, his voice thankfully not betraying a whiff of his frayed nerves. “I bring greetings and well wishes from my mother, the Snow Queen and regent of the Eighth Kingdom, and we hope that my presence here tonight will mark the beginning of a new page in the history of the Nine Kingdoms, one of peace and prosperity for all!”

“Hear, hear!” Wendell cried, grabbing two glasses of pink champagne from a server and holding one out to Loki. They raised their glasses and, with them, so did everyone else in the room. “To peace and prosperity for all the Nine Kingdoms!” Wendell called, and everyone echoed his toast. 

Loki, though, found his gaze only on Thor, caught helplessly in his thrall as Thor moved towards him, like a majestic and supremely confident lion stalking a trembling antelope runt,easily parting the crowd, but more elegantly than Loki would’ve thought possible with his enormous bulk. Despite all the eyes still trained on them, he stopped a foot closer than the exact distance from Loki that propriety demanded of a formal first meeting between royals, and crooked an eyebrow at Wendell.

The King cleared his throat. “Prince Loki, may I present His Royal Highness Prince Thor of the First Kingdom? Prince Thor, Prince Loki.”

Loki bowed before Thor as was customary when greeting a fellow royal; Thor, instead, held out his hand – because of course he did. Loki had no choice but to place his hand in Thor’s. Not taking his eyes off Loki, Thor raised his hand to his lips and pressed another lingering kiss to the back of his hand, his thumb brushing softly against Loki’s rings.

It irked Loki no end that, no matter how many times Thor did that, Loki still got the tingles. He almost wished that his mother’s tailor had included gloves in his ensemble; almost, but not quite, he thought as the tingles spread warmth across his cheeks. Even Thor was going gloveless tonight and the feel of his hand in Thor’s was heady.

“My Prince,” Thor murmured, his deep voice setting Loki’s heart a bit aflutter. “May I please secure the first dance on your card tonight?”

“You may, your highness.” Loki replied somewhat tremulously, nodding imperiously as a scribe appeared from somewhere and dutifully wrote down Thor’s name in one of the cards he held. 

“May I secure your second dance, your highness?” Wendell asked, his blue eyes alight with mirth as his gaze darted between the two of them.

Loki smiled at him, and managed to take a calming breath. “It would be my pleasure, your majesty.”

“I would also have the last dance on your card, my Prince; _please_ ,” Thor asked, his jaw clenched.

It took a lot of self-control for Loki not to laugh at him. He still also really wanted to upend a pot of tea on Thor’s head.

“I would be honoured to save the last dance for you, your highness,” Loki said sardonically, a smirk playing about his lips.

“Thank you; you are most kind,” Thor murmured. “I shall return to your side when the dancing begins.” With that, and a pointed look at Wendell, Thor walked away. 

Loki leaned in close to Wendell, whispering for his ears only: “He is such an uncultured boor; however do you put up with him?”

Wendell chuckled. “Come now, Loki. Surely you’ve noticed his redeeming qualities.”

“Maybe one or two,” Loki drawled. “I’m fairly certain I could make him fetch and carry for me with all those unnecessary muscles of his.”

“Stop it! He has plenty of excellent qualities; above all, is his loyalty,” Wendell said with a sigh. “I fear now he has set his sights so firmly on you, that the rest of us mere mortals will have no chance at all.”

Loki scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Wendell. You said it yourself: I am but a novelty. His interest – if you can call it that – will wane soon enough, especially considering that I leave on the morrow.”

“You would do well not to underestimate Thor’s affection for you,” Wendell warned. 

“Thor barely knows me.”

“Yes, that’s the surprising bit! I’ve never known him to be quite so flummoxed and fascinated by someone. He threatened me with bodily harm, you know.”

“He did not!” Loki was aghast at the thought; the very nerve of the man!

“Oh, he did,” Wendell assured him. “Not to give up the pursuit of your affections, you understand – because Thor is nothing if not a great proponent of a fair fight – but only that I would be very sorry if I were to ever hurt your feelings.”

Loki frowned as he scanned the crowd for Thor. He found him in seconds, and looking in Loki’s direction no less, but speaking to a woman next to him, a regal redhead in a stunning rose gold gown. Her bearing spoke for itself but the crown upon her head made Loki realise with a start that he was looking at the Great Queen Cinderella herself. 

Or rather, the Great Queen Cinderella was looking at him. And then, she was beckoning him, imperiously as was her right, but Loki felt rather rooted to the spot.

“Ah,” Wendell said with a smirk as he saw where Loki was looking. “You are being summoned. It would be best not to keep her majesty waiting.”

Wendell gave him a considerable push in the right direction when he found Loki was immobile and then, likely taking pity on him, accompanied him to the Queen’s side.

“Wendy,” she rasped. Loki stifled a very inappropriate giggle as Wendell grimaced.

“Your majesty,” he greeted with a deep bow. “May I present Prince Loki of the Snow Kingdom?”

“How do you do, your majesty?” Loki murmured softly, pressing a polite kiss to the hand she extended in his direction. He was quite taken aback by the vitality of the more than two-hundred-year-old monarch before him. Wendell, he noticed, quietly snuck away.

“I do as well as can be expected at my age, your highness,” the Queen said with a wink; she reminded Loki of her grandson who was standing like a giant oak next to her, tall and strong and silent, his blue gaze ever fixed on Loki but his mouth shut for once. “I was at your christening, you know.”

Loki blinked in surprise. “You were?”

“Indeed. Your mother is strong-willed woman. I like strong-willed women. She reminded me of me when I hit my first century and got fed up dealing with all the crap I had to deal with as a Queen beneath a King. I outlived my first husband, took the throne for myself and the rest, as they say, is history. Or  _her_ story as the case may be.”

Loki wasn’t sure what to say, so he just congratulated her. “You’re not considered one of the five Great Queens for nothing, your majesty.”

“Indeed not, Loki,” she said shrewdly. “In fact, we the Five have always stuck together, for as long as some of us were alive. We’ve lost Snow White, of course. And Queen Riding Hood the First, quite tragically murdered in her prime. Now her successor to the Red Throne is threatening war with Gretel the Great. One Kingdom with two Queens; there was always going to be trouble; though we’d all hoped, for a time, that Gretel and Queen Riding Hood the Third would get their heads out of their arses and marry. Any fool can see their love for each other is still strong.”

Loki cleared his throat, unsure of whether he should argue with the Great Queen before him. But, for some reason since arriving in the Fourth Kingdom, he could not keep his opinion to himself. “It is not quite so simple as that, your majesty. Love is not the solution to everything. The hatred between Wolves and Hunters is old and pervasive in the Second Kingdom. The Red Queen will never side with Wolves and Great Queen Gretel will never stop protecting the Allied Packs.”

Queen Cinderella narrowed her eyes at him. “So you believe war is inevitable?”

“I did not say that, your majesty. I merely believe that they are at an impasse, and someone’s got to give.”

The Queen hummed in thought, the corner of her mouth twitching. “What do you think of the situation in the Sixth then? Two Queens again, one of them the Great Queen Rapunzel, and only one Kingdom between them.”

Loki smiled. “It is a moot point, is it not? They are both asleep and have been for almost a century.”

“And will you try, as others have before you, to wake the Sleeping Beauty? It would be a formidable feat.”

Loki and Thor exchanged a look. “I shall leave the formidable feats to your grandson.”

“Her grandson has no interest in that particular feat,” Thor said softly, his eyes boring into Loki’s. “Not when others are far more enticing.”

Queen Cinderella sighed. “It’s probably for the best that Rapunzel and Aurora are both still spellbound; who knows what they will think of the rest of us when they see what the Nine Kingdoms has come to? The way things are going; I will be long dead before they wake!”

“Grandmother,” Thor groused. “You know I don’t like it when you speak of such things.”

“It is the circle of life, Thor,” she said, patting his broad chest. “All things, whether good or bad, must come to an end.” She nodded at Loki. “Your mother would do well to remember that.”

Loki blinked, unsure of whether his mother was being threatened by proxy through him. “I’m afraid I don’t comprehend your meaning, your majesty.”

“There is an opportunity for another Queen to achieve Greatness, Loki,” the Queen clarified. “I see no reason why that should not be your mother.”

“Usually people are not so readily accepting of her, considering her past,” Loki said; her slightly  _evil_ past, he thought.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Queen Cinderella told him, her gaze filled with the wisdom gained from over two centuries of life. “I have felt for many a year now that she has...mellowed. Since your birth, if truth be told. If she would only do something about those atrocious sisters of yours.”

Loki didn’t know whether to feel insulted or not. He hated his sisters but to hear them spoken of so cavalierly made it feel like he _should_ be taking offense. Then again, this was Queen Cinderella speaking; the thing to do was to let her speak.

The Queen poked him in the chest with her folded-up fan. “I hear my grandson likes the looks of you.”

 _Oh no_ , Loki thought regretfully, _letting her speak was a very bad idea indeed_.

He looked to Thor for assistance, but that odious toad suddenly seemed to find the pattern of the carpet quite diverting. Loki wanted to kick him. “I’ve heard that, too,” Loki admitted through gritted teeth.

“He has excellent taste, my grandson; takes after me,” she said with a sly smile. “I’d be very disappointed if he has not already procured two dances with you.”

Loki felt flushed under her unyielding gaze. “He has, your majesty.”

“Excellent,” she said, grinning. “Save a dance for me as well.”

Loki’s eyes goggled. “Er...what?”

The Queen squinted at him. “What _what_? Do you think me too old to take a turn on the dancefloor?”

“No! No, of course not, your majesty!”

“Well then, make sure your scribe puts my name down for a waltz before your card fills up! Indeed, make it two waltzes!”

“As you wish, your majesty,” Loki mumbled, not even sure where his scribe was at that moment.

“I shall take the time during our dances to extoll the virtues of my grandson,” the Queen told him with a wink as Thor valiantly struggled to contain his laughter. Loki’s glare promised swift retribution when  _they_ danced together later. “I am very happy that he has declared his intention to woo the pants off of you.”

Loki, who had been taking a well-earned sip of champagne, promptly choked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh come now, Loki,” Queen Cinderella teased. “You are two virile, handsome young men in your prime, and I am old enough to have seen everything. At least twice.”

“There is nothing to see here!” Loki insisted, slightly horrified that the old Queen was just as preposterous as her grandson.

Queen Cinderella chuckled. “ _Yet_ , my darling. Nothing to see  _yet_. Give it time. We of the First Kingdom are the very best of lovers, you know.”

Loki was certain he looked as horrified as he felt, and about as red as a tomato. “No, I did not know! And knowing it now is of no consequence! None at all!”

“Nonsense!” the Queen declared, gesticulating elaborately with her elegantly bejewelled hands. “Being able to make love with passion and verve is an art form, and we in the First Kingdom are master practitioners of it! You may search all the Nine – indeed, even the Tenth – and I am certain you will never find more skilled and attentive lovers. And, of course, those of us of royal heritage in the First have transcended mastery. We are _connoisseurs_ of the craft; Thor, too, from what I have heard of his exploits.”

“ _Grandmother_ ,” Thor admonished, his embarrassed moan drowning out the high pitched squeaky sound that came out of Loki’s mouth.

“Oh listen,” the Queen said, ignoring them both. “The musicians are readying themselves. I believe Thor has the first dance? First dance, first love, First Kingdom – you will find that we are first in a great many things, your highness.” She took his hand and placed it in Thor’s already outstretched one, and whispered in his ear. “This is also the _first_ time my grandson has ever shown such an ardent affection for someone; I intend to do everything in my power to help him achieve his heart’s happiness.”

Loki swallowed past the lump in his throat. “And what of my happiness?”

“Entrust your heart to him, and he will ensure your happiness. You will want for nothing, my dear boy,” the Queen assured him. “Set yourself free, Loki. Fall in love.”

Feeling as if he’d just walked through a funnel cloud, Loki followed Thor to the dance floor. And, _suck an elf_ , the first dance was a waltz. At least it wouldn’t require his concentration with intricate steps and footwork, Loki thought, trying to look at the bright side. He allowed Thor to lead him, because his mind was still awhirl. Decorum deemed that they should stand at least a foot apart in this dance; it would give him time to regain his equilibrium. But he’d forgotten who his partner was; Thor had never shown any interest in propriety before and, evidently, he wasn’t about to start now, considering that Loki was soon practically pressed to Thor’s broad chest.

“I see now where you get it,” Loki mumbled, just loud enough for Thor to hear over the music and the hushed conversation of other dancers twirling around them.

Thor chuckled. “Forgive me for not warning you in advance.”

Loki glared at him. “Why did you have to tell her about this whole...courtship nonsense? That was so embarrassing!”

Thor frowned. “Why would I not tell her that? I tell her about all the significant events in my life.”

“This is not significant!” Loki hissed. “ _I_ am not significant! Not to you, at least!”

“Of course you are, Loki. Why would I not tell my family that I am falling in love with you?”

Loki stared into Thor’s earnest blue eyes in shock. “Are you mad? Have you lost what little was there of your mind?”

“Perhaps; love does make fools of us all,” Thor muttered, looking abjectly hurt. Argh, it made Loki want to do absurd things like stroke his hair and feed him cakes and maybe cuddle him for a bit.

What _utter_ nonsense; Loki had never felt so adrift in his life!

“Thor, we met just yesterday! You cannot possibly be in love with me!”

“Loki,” Thor growled, dragging Loki’s body closer. “Do not presume to lecture me about how I feel for you.”

“So,” Loki started, “you would court me against my will?”

Thor’s startled gaze collided with his and the firm grip he had on Loki’s body slackened considerably. “My affections are...unwelcome?”

Loki blinked. Of course they were! Weren’t they? He was so confused. None of this was going according to plan; his mother would kill him if he was to return to their Kingdom with a suitor in tow who had been meant for one of his sisters.

“Loki?”

“I told you earlier that I do not plan on accepting your suit.”

Thor’s breath appeared to catch; his face grew grave and ashen as he looked down at Loki and, strangely, it appeared to only be propriety that was keeping him dancing with Loki.

Thor swallowed visibly. “Forgive me,” he muttered, looking stricken and like he’d been kicked in the chest by a horse. “It would appear that I have mistaken your reticence for teasing and not for what it truly was: an aversion to me. I’m sorry. I will withdraw my name from your dance card, and I will not bother you any further. I will leave the Fourth Kingdom this very night.”

Now Loki felt like _he’d_ been kicked in the chest, for all his breath had left it. His hands tightened their grip on Thor, the one on his arm beside his epaulet, and the one that was clasped in his hand. “I didn’t say that! Stop putting words into my mouth! I do not have an aversion to you!”

Thor’s grip on _him_ tightened once more. “So...my attentions _are_ welcome?”

Loki stared at the ornate ruby and gold brooch pinning Thor’s short red cape to one shoulder of his robes. “I didn’t say _that_ either.”

“Then what are you saying?” Thor asked with a tiny huff of frustration.

“I don’t know!” Loki snapped quietly before sighing. “I suppose you are not  _un_ welcome. For now.”

“Rapunzel’s braid, Loki, you drive me crazy!”

“ _I_ drive  _you_ crazy?” Loki asked, snorting as he looked up at Thor. “You  _are_ crazy. I feel crazy just being in your general vicinity.”

“Then you know exactly how I feel,” Thor told him. 

Loki sighed, suddenly both mentally and physically exhausted, and... _hungry_. “I’m hungry,” he grumbled, just for want of something to say, and was then immediately appalled that he’d said it.

“We will visit the buffet tables when our dance is done,” Thor assured him. “You skipped lunch this afternoon, did you not?”

“How do you know that?”

“I waited for you in the dining room but you didn’t turn up. I asked the staff to deliver something to your chambers. Did they not?”

 “Oh,” Loki whispered, almost to himself. No one had ever noticed him enough to note whether or not he ate. It was...sweet.

Loki startled a bit when Thor’s lips brushed the hair by his ear. “Loki?”

“I had asked not to be disturbed.”

Thor nodded and they danced in silence for a while, Loki marvelling at the ease with which they moved together, as one, in perfect harmony.

Thor’s gaze, though, did not leave his. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Please don’t,” Loki begged, feeling too tired and too... _fragile_...to hear empty compliments no matter how pretty they may have been.

Loki didn’t need to look at Thor to feel the frown on his face. “Very well, but only let me assure you of this: you are the loveliest person in attendance tonight. I mean that, Loki.”

“Thank you,” Loki muttered, staring at Thor’s brooch again and not really believing him. “You look...as you always do, I suppose. Handsome.”

And he did, Loki thought sincerely. Thor was resplendent in midnight blue and ruby red tonight; in the ceremonial uniform of his Kingdom’s Commander of the Guard, just like Wendell had been dressed in white and crimson to represent the House of White.

Thor looked magnificent, though, in a way in which no one else in the room could compare. Tonight, he wore his ruby encrusted gold crown atop his riotous hair, which continued to defy every protocol governing proper princely coiffure. This time, it was intricately braided, with dusky gold hoops woven into several small plaits that sat flush against the sides of his head before falling over each shoulder and down his back. The hair beneath his crown and in the back of his head was worn loose at his nape, while escaping tendrils curled about his face in a fetching manner. The entire effect was both effortlessly stylish and artfully savage; Loki’s look, on the other hand, had taken three hours of painstaking preparation and a lot of magic to help hold the illusion in place.

Loki sighed, wishing fervently to leach some of Thor’s natural self-assurance for himself. He’d not missed the many, _many_ appreciative looks thrown in Thor’s direction, both from women and men alike. Sure, people stared at him too, but it was likely more the way one studied a particularly interesting insect under a magnifying glass.

He would’ve felt lucky and beyond flattered to have captured Thor’s attention if it hadn’t all been a farce. He knew this was likely all part of Nine Kingdoms Council’s plan for peace with the Eighth Kingdom. Thor was the chosen suitor and Loki was, reluctant as he was to admit it, the lesser of all evils in comparison to his sisters.

It was a sobering thought and it reminded him of his worth – or lack thereof – in more ways than one.

He also couldn’t shake the feeling that that pesky wish he’d made a long time ago was finally beginning to interfere in his life.

When the dance came to an end, and before Thor could guide him to the food, Loki was whisked away by the scribe in charge of his dance card. Loki had to ask to look at it twice because it was already filled completely, occupying his time until well after midnight.

As the evening progressed, the faces and names of the people he'd met, and spoken to and danced with, blurred together as he whirled around the dance floor or stepped and hopped and slid and turned in the more intricate dances from every corner of the Nine, including his own Kingdom. His industrious scribe – the boy deserved a generous reward at the end of the night, Loki thought – even managed to arrange for Loki to chat with members of the press in addition to each and every one of the candidates who were on the list of potential suitors for his sisters.

As promised, Queen Cinderella claimed him for the next waltz, and regaled him with stories of Thor's exploits. Loki was certain that, by the time they danced again, she would've procured a portrait book of Thor just so that she and Loki could coo over drawings of him as a baby.

Thor was so obviously well loved by his family that it made Loki's heart yearn to feel even a fraction of that affection in his own life.

Blinking back the sudden tears that sprang to his eyes, he smiled and nodded and made easy conversation with his current dance partner, the delightful and plucky Elven Queen Leaf Fall of the Seventh Kingdom. He’d met her a few times before, for he’d always liked walking the borders where his Kingdom met hers. Usually, there was nothing beyond that border but, at dawn and at dusk, the majestic Seventh Kingdom appeared, bringing with it its teeming wildlife, lush greenery, scary swamps, and myriad magical creatures, from fairies to elves, pixies and brownies, hobgoblins and grindylows. How Loki had longed to explore it in his youth; he hoped that one day, he could.

As he twirled her around, his head spun, and he was reminded once again that he hadn't eaten. He did feel a little faint in fact, but he powered through until his dance was done. Just before his scribe could guide him to his next scheduled meeting with Prince Hansel, famed Witch Hunter and newly single brother of Queen Gretel, he bumped into Thor.

"Try this," Thor whispered in Loki's ear; for a split second, his piercing electric gaze made Loki feel like they were the only two people in the room. Loki saw that he held a small plate piled with hors d'oeuvres. "Some sort of venison puff pastry thing; they're delicious." 

Loki opened his mouth to decline because to keep Hansel waiting would no doubt be seen as a slight against the Second Kingdom, but Thor merely popped the pastry into his mouth – _feeding_ him, for Cinderella’s sake – decorum be damned as usual. As Loki chewed – it _was_ delicious – Thor addressed Loki's scribe.

"Her majesty my grandmother is overtired from the festivities and has asked that I claim her second waltz with the Prince in her stead. See to it that the correction is made in his highness’s card, will you?" Thor did a double take at Loki’s pointed look. “Er...that is if Prince Loki is amenable? Are you? Will you accept me in my grandmother’s stead?”

Loki’s mouth twitched. “I will.”

The scribe nodded frantically as he made the change and surreptitiously tried to steer Loki across the ballroom. Thor’s big body, however, was in the way, and he wouldn’t move until he popped another pastry into Loki's open mouth and pressed a few more of the tiny treats – wrapped in a paper serviette – into his hand.

Thor disappeared into the crowd before Loki could thank him.

Hansel, who was delightfully rakish and just as charismatic as his reputation claimed, had much to say to him as they danced. Mostly it was about the imminent war in the Second Kingdom and whether or not the Snow Queen would intercede in talks of peace.

“You know my mother will not interfere in the matters of another Kingdom,” Loki told him. “Maybe that was true once, for her goals were different, but she no longer wishes for a stake in the Nine, only to secure the future of our own Kingdom.”

Hansel smirked. “All our futures are intertwined, Loki; if you called for my help against your sisters,” Hansel said as he leaned in closer, and Loki got a little lost in his intense grey-green gaze, “I would heed that call.”

Before Loki could get his brain to formulate a response, they were rather rudely knocked into by another couple: Thor and some dazzling beauty that Loki did not recognise.

“So sorry,” Thor said, sounding anything but as he glared daggers at Hansel.

“Think nothing of it, Thor,” Hansel drawled, winking at Loki before staring down Thor, unintimidated. “Unless you have inconvenienced my lovely dance partner, in which case, you shall be very sorry indeed.”

 _Thor’s_ dance partner looked at Loki like she was about to erupt with laughter as their two companions glared at each other; Loki merely shook his head at their stupidity and led Hansel away; thankfully the music had ended and they soon parted ways.

He then had a scant moment to take a breath and gather his thoughts.

 _Shit_ , was his first thought.

Thor was an idiot, and now Loki had _three_ dances with him. And that was on top of the little display with Hansel just now; who knew what people might be thinking? _Rumpelstiltskin_ , even the press were in attendance! Loki almost hyperventilated at the implications of it: two dances were indicative of serious interest, but three dances were practically like announcing their engagement!

Loki took another calming breath. Maybe no one would give it much import; it was a last-minute change after all. Loki groaned; the meddlesome old Queen had probably planned this to throw him together with Thor, regardless of the repercussions to Loki’s reputation. The conniving old bat! If Loki hadn’t been so incensed, he would’ve been impressed.

He also would've contemplated it further, but all thought fled from his mind as his scribe appeared and guided him to his next dance partner: the ruler of the Fifth Kingdom, the Naked Emperor. 

Loki didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He was still unsure when Thor claimed him for their waltz a few dances later. "Feathers, Thor," he groaned, leaning his forehead on Thor's broad shoulder. "There were only a few strategically placed feathers separating me from the Emperor's...family jewels."

Thor's shoulder shook as he laughed and it reminded Loki that collapsing in relief against Thor's big warm comforting body was just not the done thing in the midst of a ball. He straightened; Thor squeezed his hand reassuringly and smiled indulgently at him. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"It is...overwhelming," Loki confided in him. "But yes. People have been very welcoming and kind and...complimentary."

"Did you expect insult?" Thor asked quizzically.

"No, of course not. I don't know what I expected, but it certainly wasn't warmth."

"Perhaps you have been too long in the cold." Thor whispered, gently caressing his body where his hand rested on Loki's waist and, through the thin material of his tunic, it felt like Thor’s hand was upon his skin.

"Perhaps," Loki mumbled, revelling in the more welcome warmth of Thor’s touch as he tried to forget what it’d been like to dance with the Naked Emperor.

Thor cleared his throat. “You seemed to like Hansel well enough.”

Loki schooled his features into nonchalance. “What’s not to like?”

“I could name a few things,” Thor said snippily.

“I saw no faults in him. He is brave and good-hearted; he has offered to help fight my sisters if need be.”

“I would offer the same if you would let me. Do you think that I have not fought my share of witches?”

“He is a _famed_ Witch Hunter.”

“It is not fame that motivates me.”

Loki looked at him with genuine curiosity. “What motivates you?”

“People,” Thor answered. “I do not like to see people suffering; I care not who they are.” He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of Loki’s ear as he spoke. “If you were in danger, Loki, without a thought, I would risk life and limb to save you.”

Loki’s stricken gaze collided with his. “I do not wish that! I never wished for that! You have no skill with magic; Hansel is an expert in fighting it.”

“In that, we shall have to agree to disagree,” Thor conceded. "Are you still hungry?"

"Starving," Loki admitted, grateful for the change of subject. "Though I don't know if I can afford to eat in these tight clothes."

"I'm sure you can manage a few morsels," Thor said, turning expertly and effortlessly guiding Loki to one of the buffet tables. He kept his hand on Loki's elbow but abandoned the waltz altogether as they nibbled on a few appetizers. 

By the time Loki's scribe found him again, he wasn't feeling quite so faint and lightheaded. His heart, though, felt like it was taking wing every time his gaze collided with Thor's across the crowded dance floor.

 

It was well into the early hours of the morning when the last dance was announced and Loki, exhausted, still hungry, and his feet aching, was about ready to collapse. He could've sworn he actually almost did fall but, just as suddenly, he was in Thor's strong embrace, surrounded by the warm sandalwood scent of him, and Loki relaxed for the first time that night, because this was the last dance and the night, which had gone much more splendidly than Loki could ever have imagined, was finally at an end.

"Happy?" Thor asked softly, his lips close to Loki's ear. 

"I think my mother will be," he said as the musicians made their final preparations.

"That's not what I asked," Thor murmured.

"I'm happy now," Loki conceded, allowing himself to become ensnared in Thor's heated glance one last time tonight. He blinked to break the spell. "I mean...now that it's almost over."

Thor's thumb absently stroked Loki's palm as he hummed. "Do you know what dance they have planned for this set?"

"No."

"It is in your honour: the Snow Floe."

"Oh," Loki gasped, a blush rising to his cheeks as he recognized the most romantic of all dances to hail from the Eighth Kingdom. It involved intricate steps and patterns but no switching of partners. It was not as close as the waltz but it was a good deal more...intimate. At least when done properly. Loki, of course, was a master at it. He wasn't sure about Thor. "Do you know this dance?"

"Aye, it’s my father’s favourite dance and he made sure all his children learnt it well," Thor explained, his gravelly voice dipping lower as he stared into Loki's eyes. "This is a dance of courtship and love in your kingdom, is it not?"

"It is," Loki said, his mouth suddenly very dry.

"It is fitting then, that we dance this together."

"Thor," Loki pleaded, suddenly tremendously tired of this charade. "You do not need to pretend any longer. I know you only court me as a path to peace. I can tell you right now that my mother will never allow it. She will not accept a suitor for me, only for my sisters. And  _I_  will not accept you as a suitor for any one of them; it's far too dangerous for you." Thor simply stared at him, and his intense gaze felt like a physical weight on Loki's chest. It made him speak just to fill the uneasy silence that grew between them. "I spoke to the Elven Queen earlier tonight; one of her nephews is a powerful mage. I met him, and I think he may be the one to stand up to Amora. Hansel may do well against Lorelei, but none whom I’ve met tonight could stand up to Hela. I was thinking..."

Thor pulled Loki close, the passionate look in his eyes stunning him into silence. When Thor spoke, his voice resolute and unwavering. "Listen to me well, Loki, for I do not want to remind you of this again: this is not a ruse. You have captured my gaze, my heart, and my mind from the very first moment you walked into my life. I have never felt for another the way I feel when I look at you, and I think you are the loveliest person I have ever laid eyes upon. My intention to court you, and get to know you better, is my own; I care not for the politics of peace right now – I only care for you and your happiness. And I would be honoured if you would let me."

Loki, entranced by the bone-deep sincerity of Thor's words and the electric blue fire of his eyes, could scarcely catch his breath. 

He didn’t even know what he would’ve said, had he had the time to think, for the conductor tapped his music sheets and they had to take their positions in first formation. As the music played, a haunting yet beautiful melody, all crisp violins and bold cellos complementing the mellifluous piano concerto, they clasped hands, and began to move.

Around them, the other dancers vanished into the shadows as Loki’s entire existence narrowed down to just the two of them, caught in one another’s thrall as they began to promenade and turn and twirl, their hands encircling each other’s waists and the napes of their necks in perfect harmony, their gazes locked and unwavering.

They held each other, the touch of their skin warming them from within, hands lingering on each other a beat longer than the music called for, unwilling to part from one another even though the steps of the dance would soon force them into it. They were meant to release their hands and circle and pirouette independently, but they didn’t. In unison, as if they’d practiced the new steps beforehand, they held on, effortlessly integrating the improvised moves into their dance.

Not a word was said between them, but the sweet ebb and flow of their bodies spoke volumes as they brushed against one another before parting and returning again, inexorably, unerringly, and always, hands held firm.

Thor commanded every step like he'd been born of the Eighth Kingdom, matching Loki in skill and timing, his eyes never leaving Loki's, his words playing over and over in Loki's head.

Could he have been telling the truth? Was Thor – the eminently sought after Prince of Dreams – actually and truly interested in Loki? In that magical moment, under the twinkling lights of the ballroom, and with the loveliest of melodies playing an accompaniment to their dance of courtship, Loki could almost lull himself into believing the fantasy.

 

Later that night, once he'd unbound himself from his tight robes and jewellery, freed his aching feet from his boots, and wrapped himself in the soft silk of his pyjamas, Loki let himself believe a little more.

It made him sit at the desk in his room with parchment and quill and write a letter to his mother. He might’ve tried to fool himself before but, after tonight, he was not sending even one of the men he’d met that night into his sisters’ sinister clutches.

In his letter, he wrote the only response that may be his saving grace: he called the royal men of the Nine a weak and pathetic lot, nowhere near worthy enough for a Princess of the Eighth. Before fear could change his mind, he rolled the parchment and spelled it smaller; he then quietly opened the balcony doors and sent his magic to call the captain of his mother’s winged guards who’d been following him for just this purpose.

The huge snow owl, Halvar, flew in from the edge of the massive dark and dangerous forest that separated the Fourth and Eighth Kingdoms. He allowed Loki to pet him and nuzzled him back affectionately before getting back to business and pecking the tiny parchment from Loki’s fingers.

“Deliver it only to my mother,” Loki whispered as Halvar tucked the scroll into a pocket hidden deep within the fluff of his feathers. “Tell her that...I’m sorry I’ve failed her.” He and the owl stared at each other before the creature nodded. Loki sighed. “Go now; fly safe.”

He watched the owl until it was a speck in the distance and only then turned away, locking the balcony doors and warding them as was his habit. He was just about to turn out the lights and lose himself to the heavenly softness of his mattress when a quiet knock sounded on his door.

Thinking it was a member of the palace staff, he opened it, and was startled to see Thor leaning lazily against the door jamb. He had shed his ceremonial uniform and now only wore a billowy white shirt with his trousers, unlaced at the throat to show a bit of his bare chest. Loki blinked, and focused on the tray Thor held in his hand so as not to stare at Thor like a moonstruck fool.

"I thought you might still be hungry," Thor said softly, lifting the domed silver cover to reveal a plate piled with tender meats and soft breads, while another, smaller dish contained a small selection of tiny desserts: caramel eclairs, tarts filled with cream and fruit, and decadent-looking strawberries dipped in chocolate. 

Loki's stomach growled in anticipation and it made his cheeks redden in embarrassment, but Thor only smiled indulgently at him. 

"Thank you, Thor," Loki whispered, genuinely touched by the gesture. He took the tray and placed it on the sideboard beside the door. As was becoming typical when dealing with this less loutish side of Thor, Loki had no idea how to respond to his thoughtfulness. "Umm, did you want to come in?"

Thor's gaze smouldered. "Did you _want_ me to come in?" he asked huskily.

Loki gulped. "It wouldn't be proper."

"That's not what I asked, but I'll let it go for now," Thor told him with a gentle smirk. "I know you like being proper and, sometimes, I am anything but."

"Only sometimes?" Loki teased, unable to help himself.

"Most of the time then," Thor agreed, his smile widening into a flirtatious grin. Keeping his hands firmly on the either side of the doorway, he leaned in closer to Loki. "I would ask a reward for bringing you sustenance in your time of need."

Loki was unsuccessful in holding back a small smile himself. "You may ask; you may not receive, but you may ask."

"A goodnight kiss," Thor requested slyly.

"Try again," Loki responded, rolling his eyes at Thor's audacity.

"Just upon the cheek; everything perfectly chaste and innocent," Thor promised, the expression on his face the exact opposite of chaste and innocent.

That look shattered all of Loki's common sense and made him yield in less than a few seconds. "Fine," he acquiesced, beckoning Thor closer with a crook of his finger. When he got close enough, Loki – valiantly ignoring all the gorgeousness in front of him – grasped him by the chin and turned his head, intent on placing the most clinical of kisses on Thor's bearded cheek.

Unfortunately, the second his lips brushed the soft bristles of Thor's beard, Loki's touch softened, purely on instinct alone, and the kiss he pressed to Thor's cheek was lingering and sweet, so much so that it was difficult to pull away, but he did, licking his lips as he went.

He actually heard the clicking of Thor's throat as he swallowed and, when he spoke, Thor's voice was gruff. "That was lovely, Loki, but I actually wanted to kiss  _you_."

Loki felt heat suffuse his own cheeks. "Oh."

Thor grinned rakishly. "May I?"

Loki nodded, embarrassed at his gaffe, cheeks likely as red as the ripe strawberries Thor had brought him; he hoped that Thor would be quick so that he could go and hide his hot face in the coolness of his pillow. 

But no, Thor took his time, tucking a stray lock of Loki's hair back behind his ear with exaggerated care, as if to drag out the touch, and then trailing those wonderful fingers languidly down his cheek until his thumb came to rest in the hollow of Loki's throat. 

"Did you know that sweat pools right here when you exert yourself like you did tonight on the dance floor?" he asked as he pressed his thumb to Loki’s throat, the deep tone of his voice making Loki shiver. Loki, once again a captive of Thor's intense gaze, swallowed as he shook his head. "It tormented me all night; I wanted to lick it off you." Loki gasped. "But, for tonight, I will settle for my kiss," Thor whispered as he leaned closer, an errant blond curl that had come loose from his braid brushing across Loki's nose. “It feels like I’ve been waiting to kiss the blush upon your cheek for my whole life.”

Loki shivered at his words. Thor’s lips, when they touched Loki's cheek, were soft but firm, and the kiss he placed there was just as sweet and languorous as the one Loki had bestowed on him. He lingered right there, his lips pressed against Loki's cheek, his soft beard a tantalizing tease against Loki’s skin, as if he was loath to part ways, as if he wanted one kiss to lead to another and another, as if he was fighting the urge to move his mouth a mere inch to the left and lay claim to Loki's lips.

It was Loki who gently pushed him away because he was starting to want all those same things and that simply would not do; Loki didn't have that luxury.

Thor stared down at him, his grip on the door jamb tight as if it was the only thing holding him back. "If only you knew how difficult it is to walk away from you right now."

Loki had a very good idea. He kept slowly pushing against Thor's massive chest as he closed the door between them. "Good night, your highness."

"Sweet dreams, sweet Prince," Thor replied, just before Loki shut the door. 

He leaned against it and smiled as he felt a distinct thump on the other side. Shaking his head, he grabbed the tray of food and took it to the little table overlooking the balcony. And, for the first time in a long time, that he could recall anyway, Loki ate his fill and savoured every scrumptious bite.

*** * ***

 

Art by catfishofoldin99colours.tumblr.com and blublubmeow.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

 

Thor was summoned to his grandmother’s chamber the next morning before he even had a chance to brace himself with coffee. He desperately needed some sort of fortification before he saw her, and he only just convinced himself that it was too early in the day for alcohol.

He promptly wished he hadn’t when he walked in and found the Queen abed, sitting up against the huge cushioned headboard and surrounded by his father and whomever of his siblings who could make it to the ball, all still in their bedclothes, and all looking far too pleased with themselves for their own good.

And for his, probably.

“Good morning,” he greeted grumpily. “Is there a reason why I am not currently indulging in my first cup of coffee like a sensible person?”

“Oh Thor,” his father remarked teasingly from his perch at his grandmother’s side. “Whenever have you been sensible, my dove?”

Thor rolled his eyes at him as he leaned down to kiss his silver-bearded cheek. “It’s never too late to start, father.” He kissed his grandmother as well, and then stretched out across the foot of the bed to lay his head on his oldest brother Volstagg’s lap. He wiggled until Volstagg gave in with a grunt and began to massage his head.

“I feel like I’m on trial here,” he mumbled as he studied his three sisters and the mischief in their eyes as they cuddled together next to his grandmother. His two other brothers were slumped in chairs next to their father.

“I just wanted to know what happened last night after I retired,” his grandmother said. “You danced three dances with your pretty Prince...”

“I’m sure your spies reported back to you, Gran,” Thor told her as he waved towards his siblings.

The Queen sniffed delicately. “I wanted a first-hand account.”

“Speaking of hands, that was very _under_ handed of you. Not sure if I could forgive you that; Loki was terribly embarrassed.”

“Don’t be silly; you got an extra excuse to hold him in your arms. How could you possibly complain about that?”

“It turned out to be only half a dance. Poor Loki skipped lunch; I had to feed him.”

His father beamed at him with pride. “Already providing for him, I see. A mark of a good husband.”

Thor blushed. “Father, he has yet to even accept my _offer_ of courtship!”

Volstagg chuckled and Thor’s head bounced against his stomach. “Did you see the way he stared at you all evening? No worries, little brother; he will accept your suit.”

“He’s probably just playing hard to get,” his oldest sister Sif chimed in as she playfully pinched his thigh. “Any idiot with eyes could see the way you two were mooning over each other, especially during that last dance.”

“Aye,” Volstagg agreed. “’Twas very romantic. I didn’t know you had it in you, Thor; well done, little one.”

Thor glared up at him. “Little? We are almost the same size!”

“But you are still smaller,” Volstagg teased as he ruffled Thor’s hair. “So tiny and precious.”

“I hate you,” Thor mumbled.

Sif sniggered, rubbing her pregnant belly. “I’m more interested in what happened afterwards when you snuck out of your chamber to see him. You were gone an awfully long time.”

“What?” both his father and grandmother exclaimed, gasping and grinning and clutching their chests in comical synchrony as if this was the best news they’d heard all morning.

Thor retaliated by pinching Sif’s thigh. “Why can you never mind your own business?”

“You are my business, brother,” she quipped, tickling his ribs mercilessly with her bare toes. She kept it up until Thor was laughing and squirming uncontrollably, and their father had to throw a small cushion at her head to get her to stop. 

Thor huffed out a relieved breath. “It took a long time because I had to find and raid the kitchens to prepare a tray of food for him. I delivered it to him, and he graciously accepted. Then he let me kiss him goodnight,” he explained, mumbling the last part, his face getting a bit warm as he recalled the sweet perfection of that kiss. His brothers and sisters oohed in unison. “Relax; it was just on the cheek.”

They booed him.

His step-sister Val shook her head at him and sighed. “You’re so boring, Thor.” She gave him a mischievous once-over. “Such a terrible waste. Prince Loki deserves better. Perhaps _I_ should declare my intent to court him.”

Thor frowned and sat up; she used to be on his favourite step-siblings list – he needed to rethink that. “You will do no such thing,” he warned through gritted teeth.

“And why not?” she asked with a teasing smile. “He looks to be the type who is sweet on the outside and positively sinful on the inside. And that is _exactly_ my type.”

“He is most assuredly _not_ your type. He is nothing of the sort. I mean, yes, he is sweet. And probably sinful, too,” Thor mused a bit dazedly before shaking his head and glaring at Val. “But that is not the point!“

“Pray tell, what is the point then, brother dear?”

“The point is: I saw him first!”

“Dibs,” Sif affirmed.

“Whatever,” Val muttered.

“He is special, though,” Thor said, sighing as he stared at the sunlit sky through the open balcony doors. “You don’t know Loki. He requires...kid gloves.”

“Ooh,” his youngest sister Darcy cooed before Val could comment, “kinky.”

Thor turned to smack her bottom, and his grandmother reached out and smacked him with her fan.

“He seemed quite resilient to me,” she commented as he glared at her and rubbed his arm.

“I think he is not as confident as he pretends. I need to be patient with him.” His siblings scoffed as one, and his father and grandmother actually laughed outright. Thor sighed; admittedly patience was not his strong suit. Also: there were far too many bloody interfering relatives in his life. “Fine, so I need to _try_ to be patient with him.”

“When you have failed so miserably at it all your life? Good luck,” Darcy remarked acerbically.

“Do, or do not, Thor; there is no _trying_ in love,” Hogun, his step-brother – his new favourite, he decided – advised sagely.

“Perhaps we need to call in reinforcements,” his younger brother Fandral suggested. “Wish for Heimdall!”

Queen Cinderella harrumphed. “I have tried summoning that reprobate, but he is ignoring me!”

“That is because he is _my_ fairy godfather and not yours, Gran,” Thor told her. “Besides, after the basilisk incident, he’s a little touchier than usual.”

“That was years ago,” his grandmother said. “He needs to get over it.”

“He probably will the day Thor stops picking up venomous snakes willy-nilly!” his father complained with a glare in Thor’s direction.

Thor laughed. “Loki said the same thing to me. With those same words and with that same expression on his face.”

His father looked mollified. “Now _there_ is a sensible young man,” he said. “Unlike my own children most of the time. Except for you, of course, Hogun, my little lamb; you are the smartest of them all!”

“Thank you, father,” Hogun drawled loftily, ducking and laughing when Fandral tried to smack him for being so smug.

Thor dropped to the floor and knelt at his father’s side. “Do you know who brewed me the antidote against the basilisk’s bite?”

“Heimdall said he was sworn to secrecy,” his father replied.

Thor smiled. “ _I_ have not been sworn to secrecy.”

“Who was it?” the Queen demanded imperiously. “I will personally see to it that they receive the highest of honours our Kingdom has to bestow.”

“It was Loki,” Thor told them a bit dreamily as he rested his head on his father’s thigh. His family gasped as one. “He is brilliant, is he not?”

“We owe him our eternal gratitude,” his father whispered. “I know not how to even begin to thank him.”

“I should’ve guessed,” the Queen said, shaking her head and smiling. “The Snow Queen has an unparalleled gift for healing magic, though she does not use it often. Loki must’ve have inherited some of that power and her talent in addition to his own, for I do not recall _her_ ever being able to brew such a notoriously complicated potion; it takes years! The only one who could perhaps ever come close was...well, Snow White’s wicked step-mother.”

Thor raised his head. “Are you implying that Loki is _that_ powerful?”

“Perhaps,” his grandmother muttered, staring off into the distance.

“Does that worry you, mother?” Thor’s father asked the Queen.

“No, my dear,” she replied. “I think we all have the power to do both good and evil. It comes down to whether we choose to use it or not. Loki’s sisters are malicious; I do not sense that in him. Mischief, yes. Malice, no." She studied Thor. “How do you feel when you’re with him?”

“Hard, probably,” Darcy muttered. She stayed straight-faced for a full three seconds before cackling like a madwoman. That, of course, set off the rest of his family, including the so-called ‘Great’ Queen of the First Kingdom.

Thor groaned and lamented his biological origins. He stared up at his sniggering father. “I’m adopted, right? Please tell me I’m adopted.”

“No such luck, my sweet dove,” he assured him as he stroked his hair. “Just think, very soon you will introduce Loki to us all. What a happy occasion that will be!”

Thor collapsed on the floor and groaned. “If I’m lucky enough to win his heart and his hand in marriage, we’re eloping. Loki likely knows every corner of his own kingdom and I know every corner of the others; you will never find us.”

Thor’s family merely laughed at his distress and, though he tried his best to block out their inane chatter by burying his face in a plump pillow, he could’ve sworn he’d heard them already planning his wedding.

 

*** * ***

 

“You must not journey alone, Loki; I...I...I _forbid_ it!” Wendell was saying when Thor walked into the dining room for brunch.

He’d abandoned his family as soon as they’d begun discussing colour schemes for his impending and thus far non-existent nuptials. Now, he was on a quest for coffee. Delightfully, Loki’s was the first face he saw when he entered the room.

He detoured away from the food and drink and straight to Loki’s side, claiming his hand and kissing it as Loki continued his argument with Wendell. He only acknowledged Thor’s presence with a slight nod. Thor shrugged and went to serve himself, shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I don’t need a chaperone, Wendell! And I won’t be alone; two of our footmen accompanied my carriage in addition to the driver.”

Wendell huffed. “Ah, but no one knew you were coming then. Now, everyone knows you’re here. I would feel much better if you let my men accompany you to the borders of the Eighth.”

“No,” Loki insisted. “I don’t want to draw attention to myself!”

“Too late for that, your highness,” Wendell informed him with a pleased smile. “You’re in all the papers this morning!”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked.

Thor spied the newspapers on the table and, abandoning his food for a minute, went to pick them up. He chose the _News of the Nine_ , the least salacious of the offerings. A frankly stunning print of a true-to-life sketch of Loki’s face stared back up at him. The headline declared him the new Prince of Dreams, usurping that title from Thor.

Thor groaned; a vision of his future flashed before his eyes, of him fighting off suitors for Loki’s hand, men and women alike. He tried not to think of the consequences should Loki actually fall in love with someone else before Thor had an opportunity to truly court him and prove his worth above all others.

He read out loud without really meaning to:

_“The irresistibly lovely Prince Loki Lucian Snow of the Eighth Kingdom made his Nine Kingdoms debut at King Wendell’s Peace Ball last night. The young Prince, now officially (and unanimously) declared one of the Charming™ ones by the Council, outshone even the stars in the night sky. He sparkled from the first moment he stepped into the ballroom, like a much-needed blast of cool wintry air on a hot summer’s night, both welcome and wondrous. He was easily the most elegantly dressed, the most enchanting dance partner, the most delightful conversationalist, and the most alluring and admired man at the Ball, and we are happy to declare him the most eligible bachelor in all the Nine! Indeed, his highness Prince Loki has sufficiently mesmerized us all enough to proclaim him the newly crowned Prince of Dreams! May his reign be long and prosperous!_

_(Personally, though, this reporter thinks not; several single members of the court privately declared to me their intent to_ _seek_ _formal permission to court the new Prince of Dreams. So, while his reign may well be prosperous, we do not think it will be very long!)”_

“Fuck!” Thor exclaimed. He wanted to crush the paper into a ball and light a fire just so he could burn it. But, then again, he also wanted to find a pair of scissors and lovingly cut out the picture of Loki so he could carry it on his person and stare at it whenever it took his fancy.

He looked at Loki only to find him agape and in shock; he grabbed the paper from Thor’s hand to read it himself.

“We told you so,” Wendell supplied unhelpfully, well deserving the glare Loki shot in his direction. Wendell cleared his throat. “My butler informed me that you have already started receiving calling cards from potential suitors wanting to declare their interest.”

“How many?” Loki croaked.

“I counted nineteen,” Wendell told him. “But some people are not early risers like us; I’m sure that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“ _Nineteen?_ ” Loki looked panicked. “I need to leave, Wendell.”

“I’m not keeping you, Loki. Just allow my soldiers to accompany you.”

“I can take care of myself!” Loki yelled. “Why does everyone scoff at my sorcery? I am powerful, dammit!”

“I don’t think I have ever scoffed at your power,” Wendell told him.

“Me neither,” Thor chimed in. “But tell me who has dared to question your talents and I will have words with them.”

Wendell snorted. “Your ‘words’ usually involve less actual words and more sounds as your adversaries moan and groan in pain.”

“What can I say? It’s an efficient strategy,” Thor bragged with a smile.

“Argh,” Loki griped, looking conflicted and bewildered and unhappy, and Thor could no longer take it.

“I will accompany him.”

“Absolutely not!” Loki snapped.

Thor tried not to take offense. “It’s either me or Wendell’s flashy entourage; your choice.”

Loki frowned and bit his lip in thought; Thor stared at his wet, plump, pink bottom lip in mute fascination.

“Ah!” Wendell exclaimed, looking pleased. “That is an acceptable compromise, is it not, Loki? I mean Thor is as strong as at least ten of my men. I would rest easy as, I’m sure, would her majesty, your mother.”

Loki huffed. “Fine. Thor can come with me!” He pointed at Thor, marching closer until his finger jabbed Thor repeatedly in the chest. “On one condition, though: No funny business, no flowery words, and no flirting!”

Thor’s mouth twitched. “That’s three conditions.”

Loki looked decidedly unamused, and gave his chest another poke. “I mean it.”

“All right,” Thor conceded, grabbing his finger and pressing a tiny kiss to its tip. “I shall strive to be on my best behaviour.”

“I would rather you emulate Wendell’s best behaviour,” Loki muttered, staring pointedly at his recently kissed finger.

“You did not say ‘no kisses’,” Thor felt it prudent to point out.

“It was implied!”

Thor sighed. “May I have my coffee first?”

“Yes, of course,” Loki replied, huffing. “I’m not a monster.”

“No, you are much too beautiful to be monstrous,” Thor agreed.

Loki narrowed his eyes at him. “What did just I tell you?”

“Oh, are we starting that now? I thought it was from when we actually begin our journey. You know, in the carriage?”

Loki snarled at the ceiling in a decidedly unprincely manner. “Is an hour enough time to ready yourself?”

“It is plenty,” Thor told him.

“Fine; we leave in an hour,” Loki declared. “Wendell, I sincerely thank you for your hospitality and your friendship. My mother will be in touch once I return home. Hopefully, our quest for peace will be a fruitful one.”

“I sincerely hope so, too, your highness,” Wendell replied. “Safe travels to you, and I hope it will not be too long before we host you here again.” Loki nodded regally and turned to take his leave. “Er, Loki? What should I do with all your calling cards? You need to reply; it would be horrendous for your reputation if you did not.”

Thor could almost hear Loki grind his teeth. “I will take them with me.”

“Excellent; I will have someone deliver them to your room and, should any arrive after your departure, I shall have them redirected to you.”

“That will be fine. Thank you, Wendell,” Loki muttered, trying to sound gracious and missing by a mile.

“Have you eaten, Loki?” Thor asked.

“Yes, thank you.” The look on Loki’s face softened to some emotion Thor could not quite describe. “I will take your leave. Goodbye, Wendell.”

Wendell bade him farewell and they both watched as Loki left the room. Then the Fourth King turned to Thor. “You’re welcome,” he drawled snootily, his smile smug.

Thor frowned. “What am I meant to be thankful for?”

“I knew he wouldn’t want an entourage,” Wendell said, chuckling. “Ergo, you’re welcome.”

“You crafty, manipulative bastard,” Thor said with a grin. “Thank you.”

Wendell preened. “All’s fair in love and war, Thor. And, unfortunately, I’m afraid this may be both.”

 

*** * ***

Thor was on the terrace adjoining the dining room, staring out at the palace gardens, and savouring his fifth cup of coffee when Loki joined him.

He leaned against the balustrade, looking ravishing in his travelling clothes: supple brown leather trousers with matching knee high boots, and a fitted velvet jacket the colour of dark chocolate over a snow white shirt; his heavy cloak, which matched his jacket, he had draped over a chair.Thor was comparably dressed, but his leathers were black and his jacket a midnight blue; his matching cloak hung off the chair next to Loki’s.

He smiled at their cloaks, side by side like that, and had a sudden flash of how they might look draped over a single chair, or their bed, in their shared bedroom.He shook his head to clear his mind of that beguiling mental image.

The unconscious similarities in their attire but disparity in their appearance also made him smile. Loki looked lissom and elegant as always and Thor felt like a lumbering ox next to his delicate perfection. Not a hair on Loki’s head was out of place, his raven locks intricately plaited and hanging down his back. Thor’s hair, on the other hand, was its usual riotous mess despite Darcy’s attempts to braid and tame it into some salvageable design that made him look more a Prince and less a savage.

 _Suck an elf_ , he was so screwed, he thought as he recalled Loki’s nineteen calling cards again.

“Nineteen calling cards,” Loki muttered, strangely mirroring Thor’s own thoughts, as he looked through the collection in his hand. “Inconceivable!”

“On the contrary,” Thor told him unhappily. “You hold the tangible proof of your appeal right there in your hand.”

Loki’s response was interrupted by a butler approaching them with a shiny silver tray in his hand. A tray filled with...more cards, damn him.

“Your highnesses,” he greeted them both before turning to Loki. “The footman has just delivered these from the gatehouse; I was informed that messengers have been arriving since the early hours of the morning. If it would please your highness,” he said, holding out the tray.

Loki looked like the cards would reach out and bite him, so Thor took pity on him and grabbed the cards himself. He dismissed the butler with a nod.

“May I?” he asked, waving the sizeable stack at Loki, who nodded as if he wanted no part of it. Thor rifled through the lot quickly, counting as he went. “Twenty-eight.”

Loki’s eyes goggled. “ _Snow White and the Seven_ _Dwarves!_ Whatever is the matter with these people?” He thrust the nineteen cards he held in his hand at Thor and started pacing like a caged animal.

Thor unashamedly rifled through them all.

“Sage Riverwalker,” Thor read aloud, not recognizing the name. “Who the hell is that?”

Loki stopped mid-step. “That is Queen Leaf Fall’s nephew! Are you sure that’s for _me_?”

“Tis your name on the card,” Thor mumbled grumpily.

“But all we spoke of was my sisters!” Loki exclaimed, grabbing the card to see for himself. “Shit. My mother is going to kill me. That is if my sisters don’t get to me first!”

“I will not let that happen,” Thor promised.

Loki snorted, unamused. “You will be nowhere near me when that happens,” he muttered, leaning close to Thor as they looked through the cards. His proximity made Thor feel a little hot under his collar but he ignored it.

They stopped at one that had Thor snorting and Loki groaning, forgetting himself so thoroughly that he hid his face in Thor’s bicep. “Suck an elf, that’s from the Naked Emperor!” He looked at Thor in shock. “Isn’t he married?”

Thor tried not to laugh. “I believe he got divorced last year.”

Loki shuddered. “But he’s so...wrinkly.”

“I thought he looked well,” Thor said matter-of-factly as he snuck an arm around Loki’s waist. He was delighted beyond measure when Loki just relaxed against him, his cheek resting on Thor’s shoulder as they studied the cards. “He’s obviously had some magical work done; a little nip here, a little tuck there. He uses the same magisurgeon as my grandmother, you know. She’s had more than one face-lift over the years.”

“I wasn’t talking about his face.”

Thor gave in and laughed. “Neither was I.”

Loki punched him in the chest as Thor shuffled through the cards; then he gasped when they saw who’d sent the next one.

“But that is from Hansel!” he gasped as he looked up at Thor. “I didn’t even know he liked men!”

Thor glanced down at him from the not-so-lofty two inches that separated them in height. “Loki, I know you don’t like me saying this, but I don’t think you realise how stunning you looked last night. As in, people were literally _stunned_ into silence when they saw you. They actually _published_ it in the papers for all to see.”

“You cannot simply change your orientation in an instant, Thor!”

“You can if you saw _you_ last night,” Thor argued. “I hate to admit it, but I can see where Hansel is coming from.” He leaned in close, pleased when a lovely blush rose in Loki’s cheeks. “You could make anyone question their sexuality. And their sanity.”

Loki squirmed, and picked at some imaginary lint on Thor’s jacket. “I am nothing special.”

“You surpass ‘special’. You are extraordinary.”

“They gawked at me not unlike one would at a bug beneath a looking glass!”

“More like an exotic bird of paradise with striking plumage that has deigned to grace the rest of us sparrows with his presence.”

Loki looked up at him in a way that made Thor want to press him up against a wall and _ravish_ him. “You are no sparrow.”

“Oh? Then what avian creature would you liken me to? A hawk? A falcon? No? An eagle, then.”

“A turkey vulture, more like.”

“Ouch,” Thor clutched his heart and was delighted when Loki smiled.

He still looked twitchy, though. “You do not think they were judging me?”

“They were in awe of you.”

“Don’t think I missed the whispers behind my back!”

“They were admiring your beauty and poise, and too intimidated to even compliment you to your face.”

“But I’m an outsider,” Loki declared plaintively, as if that would get Thor to agree with him.

“Who they very much want to welcome with open arms,” Thor explained, sneakily wrapping his other arm around Loki’s waist until they were pressed chest to chest.

“It is impossible arguing with you about this,” Loki mumbled, fiddling with Thor’s collar.

“If your intent is to put yourself down, then you’re right. I will not allow you to win that argument.”

“You vex me greatly,” Loki complained.

Thor smirked. “Likewise. But for very different reasons.”

Loki pouted.

“Would you like a hug?” Thor asked.

He was met with Loki’s startled gaze. “A hug?”

“You look like you need one.”

“I do not!” Loki exclaimed, affronted as he pulled away, looking shocked that he’d been in Thor’s arms in the first place. He blushed. “I’m not a child.”

“ _I_ am not a child and I love hugs.” Thor held open his arms and wiggled his fingers. “I’m told I give excellent hugs.”

“You are a ridiculous person,” Loki said, looking completely flummoxed.

“Come on,” Thor cajoled, mostly in jest because he didn’t think Loki would ever knowingly give in, but...he did. Loki just let himself...fall into Thor’s arms, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Thor, inordinately happy at this surprising turn of events, once again lapped up the feel of Loki’s lithe body in his arms. “This is wonderful,” he whispered, awestruck.

“Shut up,” Loki muttered into his chest. Then he sighed and backed away; Thor reluctantly let him go. “Who are the rest of the cards from?”

Thor went through the next few unimportant names until he stopped abruptly. He felt his blood begin to boil.

“What is it?” Loki asked, just as they heard voices and Thor’s entire family – all except the Queen – walked out onto the terrace.

“Excuse me a moment,” Thor said to Loki before pointing at his sister. “You!”

Val ignored him in favour of marching right up to Loki. “Good afternoon, your highness. Pleasure to see you again. You’re looking very handsome today,” she drawled, holding out her hand.

Loki, looking bewildered, thanked her and kissed her hand. Thor growled in their direction. “I’m afraid I don’t remember your name,” Loki said to Val. “I just met so many people last night; my apologies; I do not mean any offense.”

“None taken, your highness; I never actually introduced myself; I just pined from afar,” Val said, brandishing her smug smile like a badge of honour when Loki blushed. “I am Princess Valkyrie, but you can call me Val.”

Loki frowned. “Sorry, which Kingdom are you from?”

She smirked mischievously. “The First.”

Loki blinked in surprise. “Oh, so you are Thor’s...”

“Least favourite sister!” Thor snarled.

Val laughed. “You snooze, you lose, brother. I just wished Prince Loki to know that his options within the First kingdom are not limited to...” She winked at Loki with a thumb pointed at Thor. “That.”

Loki actually smacked a hand to his mouth to hold in a snort of laughter and Thor wondered what the punishment for fratricide was in the Fourth Kingdom. Surely, it would be worth it whatever it was.

“Indeed not,” Fandral said, pointedly pushing Thor to one side as he turned his blinding smile on Loki. “Hello, your highness. I am Prince Fandral, brother of Thor, though much handsomer as you can see, not to mention younger and very much still single. You will also find my card amongst that lot.”

Thor took a deep breath and turned to his father. “How upset would you be to lose two of your children today?”

His father laughed. “Depends on which two.”

“Those two,” Thor said, pointing at the culprits in question.

“Ah, no. Not those two, they do come in handy once in a while,” his father replied. “Now, if you wanted to get rid of Sif or Darcy, I would not stand in your way.”

“Father!” Both of Thor sisters exclaimed, Sif pretending to swoon into Hogun’s side.

“How very dare you, father,” she cried melodramatically. “And here I am bearing yet another heir to the First Throne!”

“Oh, we have lots, my darling,” their father teased with a wink in her direction. Then he looked at Thor. “Fine, just Darcy then.”

“What my father is trying to say, your highness,” Darcy said with a snooty sniff as she spoke to Loki, “is that I’m his favourite.“ She stuck out her hand, and Loki had to grab it before she inadvertently smacked him in the face with it. “Princess Darcy. I couldn’t really introduce myself when Thor so rudely danced us into you and Hansel last night. I’m Thor’s favourite sister, by the way. I’m everyone’s favourite!”

“How do you do?” Loki managed to say while Darcy drew in a breath.

She poked Loki in the chest. “I don’t care how gorgeous you are, and you are,” she simpered, batting her big slate blue eyes at him. “You’re really, really ridiculously beautiful close up,” she continued breathlessly, losing the plot slightly before she got back on track. She cleared her throat. “But regardless of that, if you hurt my brother, I will _gut_ you.”

“Darcy,” Thor said long-sufferingly. “I am still trying to get him to accept my suit. You’re not helping.”

Thor watched as Loki smiled down her with genuine fondness. “I like you.”

“Oh!” Darcy brightened, her eyes sparkling. “More than Thor? Because I could put my card in there. I thought about it, but I didn’t because I respect it when one of my siblings calls dibs,” she said with a pointed glare in Val and Fandral’s direction. “But none of that matters if you’ve decided that I’m _your_ favourite as well.”

Loki blushed, embarrassed, and Darcy actually cooed at him and pinched his cheek. Thor heaved a mighty sigh, stepping in to gently push her away from him and drawing Loki to his side.

“Loki, in case you haven’t already guessed, this is my family,” Thor said. “Or a small contingent of them, at least.” He introduced the ones who hadn’t already introduced themselves, and left his father for last. “This is my father, Odin, Crown Prince of the First Kingdom and first in line to our throne.”

Loki bowed respectfully. “Your highness. I do remember you from last night.”

“Was it the eyepatch? It's always the eyepatch. Very memorable,” Odin declared, bouncing on his toes when Loki smiled; he reached out to take Loki's hand and pat it. “It appears that we owe you a great deal of gratitude.”

Loki frowned. “Oh?”

“Thor says it was you who brewed the basilisk antidote that saved his life.”

Loki blushed, and darted an exasperated gaze at Thor. “Er... Yes.”

“We cannot thank you enough, your highness.”

“Please, call me Loki.”

“Well, Loki, my boy, we cannot thank you enough,” Odin repeated, tears shimmering his eyes. Thor grasped his father’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. Odin smiled tremulously and patted Thor’s cheek. “You saved my son, my little dove, and I will forever be in your debt for it.”

"Thor is your... _little dove?_ " Loki asked, eyes wide and voice strangled with the laughter he was suppressing.

Thor rolled his eyes as his father chortled. "Oh yes. I have special names for all my children. He is my little dove, for his birth brought much needed peace to our family." Odin winked at him. "Then, of course, he grew up; there hasn’t been a moment of peace since. The name still stuck, though I have often had more choice names for him in his foolhardiness."

"Rightly so," Loki agreed, giving Thor a withering look. " _Idiot_  comes to mind, especially when he walks around petting baby basilisks." Loki had apparently said the words unthinkingly for his entire face froze in horror and his breathing stuttered in his chest. The look he darted at Thor's father was one of fear as he stammered: "I...I did...I did not mean..."

Thor took pity on him and grasped his hand, raising it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "Not to worry, Loki; my father has often called me worse." 

"So have we all," Val chimed in. 

Odin laughed and nodded, giving Loki a reassuring pat to his cheek this time. "He is a bit stupid sometimes, is he not? But, I will tell you this, Loki. You will never find someone more loving or more loyal than Thor. He's quite the catch," he bragged with a wiggle of his bushy eyebrows.

"All right, father," Thor muttered. "Grandmother has already regaled him with my virtues, as they were; let's not bore him. Besides, we must be off soon."

"Ah yes, of course," his father agreed. "That was why we all came down here: to see you both off and wish you well on your journey."

"Thank you, your highness," Loki said softly, as he smiled hesitantly at Thor's father.

Odin leaned in, taking Loki's hands in both of his. "You are a fine young man, Loki. We are most pleased that Thor has chosen to court you; I hope you will give him your full consideration, for you can be assured that he will give you his. He has never before declared an interest in courting anyone, you know. You are the first. And, though you may think my opinion biased, I give you my word that you will not find a worthier suitor for your hand and, indeed, a better husband."

Loki's cheeks became infused with a riotous flush, and he seemed to have again lost his voice. Thor gently plucked his hands from his father's grasp. "Thank you for that kind endorsement, father. I do appreciate and love you for it, but you are making Loki uncomfortable, so back off, please. Thank you."

“Fine, fine,” Odin said, holding out his arms to Thor. “So protective of him already,” he mumbled as he hugged him.

There was a flurry of hugs from his family after that, Thor squeezing Val and Fandral extra hard. Loki, he noticed, stood awkwardly to one side, pretending to gather his calling cards together but surreptitiously watching them with a look of longing on his face.

Thor wondered for a second if his family was not demonstrative in their affection; then he remembered who they were. From the way Loki spoke of his sisters, Thor could reasonably assume that they didn’t share the sort of relationship that Thor did with his many siblings. He didn’t know much about Loki’s mother, but the Queen had a reputation for being the epitome of cold-hearted, for she was as icy as her Kingdom.

He pledged to himself right then and there that if Loki did accept his suit and he was lucky enough to earn Loki’s love and trust, he was going to shower him with affection, and all the hugs and kisses that Loki had probably missed out on growing up.

If only Loki wasn’t so prickly.

Thor supposed that was something he could work on as they journeyed north, taking the most scenic route possible if Thor had anything to say about it.

*** * ***

 

He didn’t have anything to say about it. 

Loki's driver had a route mapped out already. Granted it was a bit circuitous because they were taking safe, well-travelled roads, which meant they actually had to journey South first for a way before turning and heading North to the Eighth. Loki resolutely refused any deviation from the route no matter how much Thor wheedled, trying to tempt him into exploring the Fourth Kingdom a bit before heading home.

Instead, Thor had his dappled grey stallionbrought out by one of Wendell’s stable hands so that he could tether the unruly beast to Loki’s carriage himself; it was less likely that Mjölnir would – literally – kick up a fuss that way.

What he did not expect was for his usually stubborn and cantankerous steed to fall head over heels in love with Loki.

And vice versa.

Was it possible to be insanely jealous of one’s own horse?

Thor frowned as Loki whispered sweet nothings into Mjölnir’s ear in the language of the North, which was so incredibly sexy that it almost brought Thor to his knees with how much he wanted to hear those sweet words whispered into _his_ ear by Loki’s silken voice. He shook his head as Loki produced a juicy red apple out of nowhere and fed it to his horse. Mjölnir munched on his treat like he was the most docile creature in existence, and without ever taking his eyes from Loki’s face – _like rider, like horse,_ Thor thought – and Loki smiled wider than Thor had seen him smile before. He cupped Mjölnir’s cheek and stroked his neck and nose and ruffled his long mane and, _suck an elf_ , Thor was jealous of his own damn horse.

“If you two are quite done bonding, we should probably get a move on,” Thor said with a huff.

Loki looked at him, and one corner of his mouth tipped upwards enticingly as if he knew exactly what was irking Thor. And really, how far gone was Thor on him that one tiny little smile nearly undid him?

With one final pat to Mjölnir’s neck and – _fucking fairydust!_ – a sweet nuzzle to his horse’s fat cheek, Loki returned to Thor’s side by the open carriage doors. He deigned to take Thor’s proffered hand as he climbed in.

“Is everything all right?” he asked when they were seated, making a show of daintily arranging his cloak so it wouldn’t crush.

“Fine,” Thor muttered, taking the seat across from him, facing the back of the carriage so he could keep an eye on Mjölnir to make sure he behaved as they journeyed on.

And if that also meant that he got to keep _both_ eyes on Loki as well, then that was just a lucky coincidence. Loki was a spectacular sight to behold and Thor knew he was beyond smitten.

“Do you have a horse?” Thor asked, his intent only to make conversation. He regretted it immediately when Loki’s expression darkened, his eyes getting inexplicably teary; he blinked them away.

“Not anymore,” he replied gruffly.

Though Thor – uncharacteristically – refrained from questioning him further on that topic, Loki said nothing for the next three hours of their journey, no matter how gently Thor tried to draw him into conversation again.

Watching Loki stare out of the window at the passing countryside, it occurred to Thor that he may well be watching someone crying on the inside. Thor’s heart ached for him, and he desperately wanted to reach out and pull him into his arms, just to provide some comfort. But, again, he went against his instincts and sat still.

Or as still as was possible for Thor, which was probably not very still at all.

When the driver tapped on the roof and asked if they wanted to stop for refreshment, Thor leapt at the opportunity to stretch his legs and, more pressingly, to relieve himself of the five cups of coffee he’d had.

“Wilhelm, where are we?” Loki asked the driver as they alighted the carriage, ignoring the offer of Thor’s hand this time.

“Little Lamb Village, your highness,” the man said. “’Tis another three-hour journey to where we will stop for the night. We will not pass a better place than this to take refreshment should you wish. The inn yonder is owned by the Peeps; their mutton is renowned in all the Nine. Their mead as well.”

“Excellent; thank you, Wilhelm,” Loki responded, his hand delving into his cloak before he produced a coin purse. He emptied a few coins into his palm and handed them to the driver. “Make sure you and the footmen have a meal as well.”

“We thank you, your highness,” Wilhelm said. “But the footmen will accompany you; we will eat later.”

“Nonsense,” Loki said dismissively. “No harm will come to me with Prince Thor around. You may go about your business and feed and water the horses.”

The driver nodded in deference to his wishes and Loki walked away, leaving Thor to follow him. “Shall we get a room at the Peep Inn?” Thor asked.

“Whatever for?”

Thor crooked an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying that you will use the public facilities?” Loki’s eyes widened as he recoiled in horror, and Thor chuckled. “We will get a room, then.”

Loki bit his lip. “Should we not get two rooms?”

“Two rooms? Why? We’ll only be here for an hour or two at the most.”

Loki wrung his hands. “It wouldn’t be proper. If word got back to my mother...”

“Of course; forgive me for not thinking of that,” Thor agreed softly. “We shall get two rooms.”

Loki stared at him for an endless minute, his fathomless green eyes inscrutable. Then he nodded, and indicated that Thor should lead the way. When they entered the bustling establishment owned by the family descended from the infamous Little Bo Peep, they only had the one room available.

“We’ll take it,” Thor told the innkeeper, before turning to Loki. “You take the room; I’ll stay down here. I’ll send word to the stables and have your footmen join you for their meal as well.”

Again, Loki bit his lip, obviously conflicted. Finally, he shook his head. “No, that’s just silly. You are a Prince; you cannot eat here with the rest of the rabble.”

Thor grinned. “I have before. Many times. They know me well here.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Loki drawled acerbically as he eyed the three winsome shepherdesses who chose just that inopportune moment to walk by, smiling and winking at Thor as they flaunted their ample bosoms, flirtatiously twirling the ringlets in their hair just as they twirled their shepherdess crooks.

“Your highness,” one girl greeted Thor as her friends giggled loudly. “Will you be requiring some company with your meal?” she asked coquettishly.

Thor grinned at their boldness, but Loki looked supremely unamused. “No, he will not!” Loki snapped in clipped tones. The girls pouted in unison; Loki grabbed Thor’s hand and pulled him along towards the stairs to where the innkeeper stood, waiting to show them to their room.

Thor hid his smile and obediently followed; Loki still held his hand and that was a glorious thing. Once they were in the room, Thor let Loki use the facilities while he ordered them a luncheon of roasted mutton and vegetables, and fresh bread, as well as a couple of tankards of mead.

By the time Thor had also freshened up the food had arrived, piping hot and smelling and looking delicious. A table was set by the open window and they dined leisurely, focusing more on the food than talk because both of them were famished.

When they were done with the main meal, Thor picked up a pair of a succulent green apples and wiped them with his sleeve; he cut them into slices, drizzled them with honey and dusted them with cinnamon, and shared them with Loki.

“Would you like to visit the Wishing Well?” Thor asked him, nodding out the window to the village square; the Well took pride of place in the centre of the cobble-stoned square with its ever-present line of people waiting to make their wishes.

Loki stared out the window. “There’s a queue.”

“There is always a queue,” Thor told him. “But it moves quickly enough. I can pay one of the stable boys to keep your place in line.”

Loki blinked, as if surprised by the offer. Then he shook his head. “I have nothing to wish for.”

“Nothing?” Thor asked, leaning forward. “Truly?”

“Wishes granted from a well are fleeting,” Loki said, a faraway look in his lovely eyes. “You never get something for nothing. There is always a steep price to pay later.”

Thor hummed noncommittally. “Apple?”

Loki looked at him, and accepted the slice he held out. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my Prince.” Thor smiled, and waved the dish with the rest of the apple slices in front of Loki. “There’s more where that came from, and you shall have as many as you please on one condition.”

Loki crooked up an eyebrow. “You know I can just reach out and take what I want, right?”

“Ah, but that would be rude and beneath you,” Thor teased, smiling wider when Loki huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine; what condition?”

“Please talk to me. On the carriage ride. Please, Loki. The silence kills me!”

“You are such a child.”

“It’s not my fault! My family never shuts up! I don’t know how to do quiet contemplation!”

Loki actually burst out laughing at that, and Thor’s breath caught in his chest at the picture of loveliness he made. “Fine. I agree to your terms,” he said. “Now give me my apple.”

Once they were done eating, Loki stood and looked out the window wistfully. “I would like to explore, but I don’t have the luxury of time,” he said. He peeked up at Thor through his lashes. “I know you were trying to extend our journey.”

“I was. I would dearly love to make a wish to prolong our time together,” Thor admitted, nodding down at the Wishing Well, as he came to stand close enough to Loki to feel the warmth of his body.

“So why don’t you?”

“Because you would hate me for it and that is the last thing I want.”

“Ah, so you can sometimes be wise, little dove,” Loki teased with a smirk.

Thor laughed. “Aye, but it’s a very rare occurrence. You should note this day in your diary.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Loki promised, mirth sparkling in his eyes.

Thor turned to him. “Do you need another hug?”

Loki blinked up at him, obviously startled at the non-sequitur. “What? No!”

“Are you sure?” Thor asked, holding open his arms.

“No! I mean: Yes!”

Thor studied Loki’s flushed face; he looked more embarrassed than angry, so Thor wiggled his fingers in enticement. “Come here.”

“No...”

“No strings attached. Just a sweet hug between friends.”

Loki seemed even more startled at that. He inhaled deeply. “I’ve...never really had a friend before.”

Those softly spoken words hurt Thor more deeply than any wound he’d ever had, inflicted in battle or otherwise, including the one dealt to him by that baby basilisk. Thor’s voice was gruff when he finally spoke. “You do now.”

“If you tell anyone of this, I will...”

“You’ll what?”

“I’m trying to think of something suitably threatening!”

“Excellent; I’ll wait.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at him. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

“Well, everyone thinks that. Don’t you?”

“In your dreams.”

“You do feature in my dreams. Quite often and prominently since I first saw you.”

Loki blushed furiously. “Did you not promise to behave?”

“Did you not mean to hug me?”

Loki’s mouth snapped shut and he took in another deep breath. He still didn’t step closer though, so Thor did, close enough for their chests to nearly touch. Loki inhaled deeply again and, when he exhaled, he just leaned into Thor, arms still at his sides, so Thor wrapped his arms around Loki, holding him snug and close, and rubbing his back slowly, soothingly. After a few seconds, Loki finally rested his head on Thor's shoulder.

They stood like that, in the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the window, long enough for Thor to get a whiff of Loki’s scent: sugary and warm this time instead of wintry and evergreen like it had been when they’d danced at the ball, like the apples and cinnamon from their meal, like the honeyed mead they’d drunk, and the sweet almond oil scent on his skin and hair.

When Loki started to get a little twitchy, Thor reluctantly let him go.

Loki bit his lip and looked up at him, the expression on his lovely face a little sad. “Thank you. For the hugs and...for being my friend.”

“No need to thank me,” Thor said, unable to stop himself from softly stroking Loki’s cheek. “It is my honour to call you friend, my Prince.”

Thor felt like he’d been granted his most heartfelt wish as they walked out of the inn and returned to the carriage, for their camaraderie from the night of the ball had returned, and Loki was smiling, and he spoke to Thor, and teased him mercilessly enough to even impress Thor’s siblings had they been around to eavesdrop on their conversation, which bordered on flirtatious banter.

Three hours later, Thor was even more irrevocably charmed by Loki than he’d ever thought possible. He’d hoped that went both ways, so he was more than a little surprised when Loki suddenly shot forward in his seat, looking panicked. He used a cane in the corner to tap on the roof of the carriage.

“Wilhelm!” he called out as the carriage came to a stop. They waited until the driver and footmen dismounted, but only the driver approached the window.

“Yes, your highness?”

Loki strove to keep his face devoid of expression. “Did I just read that road sign right? Why are we here? I mean, why are we going into _this_ town?”

The driver looked just as puzzled as Thor felt. “We are staying there overnight.There is an excellent hotel in town where your highnesses will be most comfortable. We may begin the onward journey tomorrow as early or as late as you would like,” he told them, with a slightly questioning glance in Thor’s direction as well.

He wasn’t about to get any answers from Thor. “Loki, whatever is the matter?”

Loki pursed his lips; he stared at the floor, at the driver, and at Thor, as if having an internal battle with himself. Finally, he spoke to the driver in hushed tones. “Wilhelm, I cannot go there...to Kissing Town.”

“Ah,” Thor said on an exhale.  _That_ was why. Thor had had no idea they were coming this way. Of course; Kissing Town was notorious for being inundated with everything to do with love and marriage and weddings. Not to mention an overindulgence and overabundance of everything romantic that usually made Thor want to gag. He'dalways avoided the place like the plague. “But you are only affected if you are in love.”

Loki shot him a withering glare. 

Oh, right. He wasn’t worried about himself; he was worried about Thor. “I would never inflict myself upon you, Loki,” Thor vowed quietly, sobered by the fact that the thought would even cross Loki’s mind.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous; I didn’t think that!” he snapped. “It’s just that you will become even more flowery and flirty than usual and I’m tired.”

“I would not!” Thor argued, affronted.

“You would, and you wouldn’t be able to help yourself,” Loki told him with a sigh. “I’ve heard that those silly little heart butterflies appear and flutter about your head incessantly if they even detect the slightest whiff of amorous intent. You will not be able to fight it.”

Thor frowned, his shoulders slumping. Loki made a valid point. “Fine.”

Loki turned back to the driver; there was the tiniest hint of amusement on the man’s face as he looked to his Prince. “Is there another place we can stay, Wilhelm? In the next town, perhaps?”

“None that we have vetted, your highness. And the next closest town is much too far away.”

Thor sighed. “There is an inn on the outskirts of Kissing Town where I have often stayed with my siblings, but it is a rowdy place,” he told them. “Not your scene, my Prince.”

“I shall be the judge of that,” Loki responded irritably. “We cannot ride through the night. Can we get rooms at this inn, do you think?”

“We should be able to find warm, clean rooms and a hearty supper. There is a good stable as well; that is the reason I have frequented that establishment before; Mjölnir likes it.”

“It is decided, then,” Loki said, and Thor obligingly gave the driver directions.

They rode on for another twenty minutes or so before pulling up in front of the inn. It was as boisterous as ever based on the noise they could hear from the outside and Thor was glad when Loki stood close, drawing his cloak around him. Thor pulled up his hood and turned to do the same to Loki, hiding their faces in shadow.

He turned to the driver and said: “The carriage is unmarked, but make sure you and the footmen take off your livery before joining us inside; it would be best not to announce our presence. I will secure our rooms; I want at least one of your footmen outside his highness’s room all night.”

Loki thwacked him in the chest, whispering ferociously: “I am not a prisoner to be guarded!”

“Of course not, Loki,” Thor said softly, right into Loki’s ear. “But you _are_ someone precious. I would sleep better knowing they were outside your door watching over you.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Thor smiled and led the way into the inn. He secured rooms for both of them and one, situated over the stables, for the driver. Loki directed the driver and the footmen to take turns guarding his room so that they could all get some rest overnight, and a rotation was agreed with Wilhelm taking the first watch.

They had their dinner delivered to Loki’s room – the biggest and best room the inn offered – and ate by a crackling fire, the room otherwise lit only with a few candles so that a warm glow was cast over everything and everyone. Thor’s breath caught nearly every time he looked at Loki, his creamy skin looking golden in the firelight, his usually light eyes dark as they reflected the flames.

Thor raised his wineglass. “To you, my Prince. I hope that, once you return to your Kingdom, it will not be too long before we meet again.”

“I hope so, too,” Loki murmured, clinking his glass with Thor’s.

Something about his words rang insincere to Thor’s ears, so he leaned forward and grasped the hand Loki had rested on the table. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed gentle kisses on his knuckles, his palm and his wrist, delighting in the feel of Loki’s warm skin against his lips just as much as he enjoyed the blush upon Loki’s cheeks and the flustered look on his face.

“It appears you do not need to be in Kissing Town to feel its effects,” Loki accused softly.

Thor shrugged helplessly. “You look beautiful in the firelight. I find myself acting insensibly.”

Loki chuckled. “So, there are times when you _do_ act sensibly?”

“Those times are even more infrequent than when I show wisdom.”

“Well, now, I shall definitely be marking this day in my diary,” Loki teased as he stood. “And as much as I would like to continue our conversation, it’s getting late and I wish to set off as soon as possible after breakfast.”

Thor smiled ruefully. “You are that eager to be rid of me?”

Loki froze, his startled gaze colliding with Thor’s. Thor held his breath as Loki hesitated and then narrowed the gap between them. He slowly raised his hand to cup Thor’s bearded cheek, his touch as light as air. Thor leaned into it instead, making it into something tangible. He nuzzled Loki’s hand and pressed a soft kiss to the mound of his palm.

“I wish...” Loki started, his voice barely a whisper.

“What do you wish?” Thor asked, just as gently.

Loki shook his head and refused to elaborate. “It does not matter what I wish; it never does.”

They stared at each other for what seemed an age, their quiet breaths and the crackling of the fire the only sounds in the room.

“May I hug you?”

Loki exhaled in seeming relief. “Yes.”

Thor stood and wrapped his arms around him, but Loki’s arms remained as ever at his sides. Thor rubbed one hand along Loki’s spine while the other maintained a firm grasp about his slender waist as he whispered in his ear: “You are adored, Loki. You are cherished. You are... _loved_. Remember that if you remember nothing else from your visit.” Loki drew back in his arms and the look in his eyes spoke volumes though not a single word passed his lips. Thor was not too proud to beg. “Please, Loki. Please come back to me. No matter how long it takes. I will wait for you. I promise I will.”

Loki’s eyes shimmered as he reached up to touch Thor’s cheek again. “I cannot say for certain,” he said sadly. “But I will promise to try; I give you my word.”

“I will take it,” Thor replied, gratefully kissing Loki’s hand again, for his words now had a ring of truth to them, just as the look in his eyes had become more determined. Thor grinned, his heart lighter. “May I please have my kiss goodnight?”

Loki chuckled and tipped up his face, offering his cheek for Thor to kiss. Which he did. For as long as he could before Loki shoved him away with a laugh. Then Thor leant down and offered Loki his cheek.

“You are incorrigible,” Loki responded, still smiling, but he dutifully gave Thor his kiss, and it was even softer and sweeter than before but, unfortunately, a whole lot quicker than Thor’s.

He waggled his brows at Loki. “I’m wearing you down, yes?”

Loki – still laughing softly, which was a glorious thing – promptly threw him out of the room.

Thor sighed happily and leaned on the door for a bit, just savouring the moment. He startled abruptly when someone in the hallway cleared their throat. Thankfully, it was only Loki’s driver.

“Have a good night, Wilhelm,” Thor called as he took the two steps across the hall to his own room. “Thank you for keeping watch; let me know if anything is amiss.”

“Yes, your highness. Er... Might I have a word?” the older man asked hesitantly.

Thor nodded. “Aye, speak freely.”

“I see the way you look at our Prince.  I have heard a lot about you and I know that you are considered to be the bravest and most noble amongst the royals in the Nine,” Wilhelm said; quite rightly, Thor thought with no small amount of pride. “I have also heard that you are not as frivolous with your heart as others in your Kingdom.”

“That is especially very true,” Thor said, wondering where this conversation was going.

Wilhelm looked towards the closed door of Loki’s room. “I have known his highness since he was a small child. I know some of what has happened in his life to make him the man he is today. In fact, he is the man he is today _despite_ what has happened to him in his life. He has not had a happy childhood; his sisters made sure of that. They were mean and vicious and vile to him and he bore it in silence because he did not wish to seem weak in his mother’s eyes. He is cold and aloof because he needs to be.”

Thor frowned, shaken and not sure if he should trust this man; he seemed sincere, though. “He would not like to be discussed as such.”

“Oh, believe me, I know, your highness,” Wilhelm said with a rueful smile. “I warred with myself, but my concern for the Prince takes precedence over all else.”

“I can understand that; I feel the same.” Thor sighed. “The person you describe is not really him, though. Certainly, he is proud, but he is a prince – that is to be expected. He also has things that weigh heavily on his mind, I think. I would not go so far as to describe him as either cold or aloof.”

“Aye, highness; because he is _not_ like that with you. This is the first time I’ve seen him smile with his whole heart since he was a little boy. He looks upon you with genuine fondness and friendship.”

Thor preened. “That is good. That makes me very happy and very hopeful for the future.”

The driver nodded and smiled wistfully. “I was loyal to the queen; I still am. But my Prince needs my loyalty more; that is what drives me to speak now. If you truly care for him, your highness, you need to be ready to fight for him.”

“I would if only he would let me.”

“I saw the newspapers this morn. If his sisters see them... I dread to think of their reaction. They are already very jealous of his popularity over theirs, especially with our people.” Wilhelm looked up at him beseechingly and spoke in a ferocious whisper. “Convince him to allow you past the barrier into our Kingdom! Speak to the Queen herself; beg for his hand if you have to and, whatever you do, don’t leave our Kingdom without him!”  

“What in the fairying forests is going on in that Kingdom?” Thor asked, fearful for Loki now.

“Nothing good,” Wilhelm muttered angrily. “His sisters have something brewing that worries even the Queen; it is why she extends her hand in peace with the Prince as her Emissary.”

“How do you know this?”

“Prince Loki, and even the Queen, they _see_ us – the servants; his sisters do not.”

“So they speak of their plans without thought or care for who is listening.”

“Aye, and they plan to usurp the Queen from her throne.”

Thor had to reach out and grab the doorjamb in his shock. “I knew they were trouble but I had no idea...”

Wilhelm looked terrified even as the words passed his lips. “If their combined powers ever surpass those of the Queen... I dare not think of the consequences. She is firm – and sometimes unforgiving – in her rule, but she is always fair. They are...monstrous.” The driver wrung his hands, his voice ragged. “The Prince will defend his mother. He is ever loyal to her. But her ears have been poisoned against him over the years. Only recently has she finally begun to realise the extent to which her daughters have been deceiving her. She begins to trust him again; this is why she sent him to the Fourth.” He studied Thor shrewdly. “Do you know how our border barrier truly works, your highness?”

“It keeps unwelcome outsiders out,” Thor replied, not mentioning what he knew of the Council Mages being asked to reinforce the barrier from outside the Eighth Kingdom.

“Aye but, more importantly, it keeps those who harbour ill will to the Nine within. The Queen set it up to contain her daughters. It is the most powerful magic there is our Kingdom, and I fear the Princesses are trying to break through it. They must never succeed.”

Thor’s mind was awhirl with the implications of this new news; apparently, he’d underestimated the threat to the Nine posed by Loki’s sisters. “Does Loki know this?”

“About his sisters trying to breach the border? I’m not certain,” the driver admitted. “I feel that he would never have left if he knew, so I...did not tell him. It would put him in harm’s way and I just wanted him to have his chance...to leave our Kingdom.” The driver sighed. “The Queen is the key; if she falls, so too will the barrier. And, no matter what, Loki remains loyal to her. If it comes down to it: his sisters will kill the Prince to get to her. For, in killing him, she will be destroyed anyway.”

Thor gulped. “I need to get into your kingdom.”

Wilhelm nodded. “You need to get into our kingdom.”

 

Thor thought long and hard about  _how_ he could get into the Eighth Kingdom as he forwent changing out of his travel clothes and just flopped down on top of the bedclothes; he had plenty of time to wash in the morning but now was the time to think.

Asking Loki to grant him permission to come through the barrier was the obvious choice, but Loki had been dead set against letting Thor anywhere near his sisters from the moment they’d met. He’d tried to warn Thor and Wendell and, come to think of it, even though he’d been meant to choose three prospective suitors for his sisters from amongst the eligible Princes at the ball, he’d chosen none of them.

Thor suddenly sat up. What if Loki was returning to his kingdom, failing in his mission...on purpose? Because he would never knowingly send one of the suitors he’d been screening to their death, Thor was sure of it. Even though Loki had mentioned a few names, he hadn't really sounded committed to any of them. What would happen to him when he returned to his home without securing the suitors? Would he be punished? The thought jarred Thor. Surely, that could not be the case? 

Then again, Loki, despite his outward strength, seemed brittle sometimes, like fine china one crack away from breaking apart. Thor had once rescued prisoners from an evil ogre who had taken great delight in torturing them; they, too, showed resilience on the outside, because that was the only way they could deal with immense pain. Could Loki be dealing with his demons in the same manner? Thor was enraged just thinking about it. 

All at once he remembered his grandmother saying that she had visited the Eighth for Loki's christening. Perhaps she could be persuaded to send Thor there on some sort of fabricated diplomatic mission? That might work, actually; Queen Cinderella was the highest-ranking royal in all the Nine; even the Snow Queen could not ignore a request from her. And if Thor told his grandmother about the danger Loki might be in, she would act fast.

The best (and quickest) way was to still try and convince Loki to let him into the Eighth but at least he had a back-up plan, Thor thought with a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes and soon fell asleep.

 

When he woke, it was suddenly; it felt like he’d only been asleep a few minutes but it had probably been a couple of hours, he thought, looking out the open window and gauging how far the moon had travelled through the night sky. He wasn't sure what had woken him but something was making the hair stand up at the nape of his neck. He listened for any unusual sounds but it was mostly silent, only the occasional cricket chirping or frog croaking in the distance.

He lay back down again and closed his eyes for a handful of seconds before his warrior’s instincts got the better of him. Getting out of bed, he walked on socked feet to the door and cracked it open, glancing immediately to the stool outside Loki's room, the one where Wilhelm had sat. 

The seat was empty, and so was the hallway. It was probably one of the footman's turn to keep watch, he figured, but where were they?

He crept silently to Loki's door and tried to listen for any sounds of distress. Again, things were eerily silent. He really didn't want to wake Loki but the missing footman had him worried. He tapped on the door and quietly called Loki's name. When he got no response, he tapped and called out louder. 

The distant whinny of a horse made all his hackles rise and, damning propriety, he kicked Loki's door open.

The room was empty. The bed had been slept in; Loki's cloak and travelling clothes were still neatly draped over an armchair but the man himself was missing.

"Loki?" Thor called as he looked in the attached bathroom. 

"Thor!" 

"Loki?" Thor yelled, spurred into action for that had been Loki's voice calling his name but it had come from outside. 

He ran to the window and threw it open wider, just in time to see Loki, his hands in manacles, being hit over the head with the hilt of a sword; he slumped to the ground. The masked man who'd hit him slapped some sort of gag over Loki's mouth and threw his prone body over a horse. 

"Loki!" Thor bellowed into the quiet night and the men looked to the window as one. Thor was shocked to see Loki's two footmen amongst them. 

Without thinking, he grabbed the dagger he always kept on his belt and aimed for the one who'd hit Loki. The dagger whistled through the air as it shot down, flying towards its mark with deadly precision, but the man merely held up his hand and the weapon fell uselessly to the ground. The man then mounted the same horse that carried Loki and he took off into the night, all his men – Thor counted ten of them including the footmen – following fast on his heels.

Thor whistled for Mjölnir and ran back into his room, pulling on his boots and donning his cloak before grabbing his axe and sword and dashing down the stairs. When he got to the stables, Mjölnir was already outside – probably having kicked down his stable door – but Thor was distracted by the shocking sight of Loki's carriage on fire. 

There were people in that stable, he thought as he glanced down the dark road Loki's captors had taken. It was a terrible choice, but he could not let innocent lives be lost. He ran to the alarm bell outside the stables and rang it, yelling about the fire so loudly that he was sure he’d even woken up everyone in nearby Kissing Town.

He then ran into the stables, still yelling as the stable hands and drivers who were overnighting in the rooms above the stables woke one by one, coughing as the flames spread from the carriage to a nearby haystack.

"Get water!" Thor screamed, grabbing two stable boys, who couldn't have been older than ten, and carrying them out to safety. "Stay here," he told them, "and don't go back inside no matter what!"

He helped others, and used his strength to haul up massive bucketfuls of water from a nearby well, his actions panicked because every minute he spent here was another minute that Loki was getting further and further away from him. 

He took a moment to breathe and focus, and then whistled shrilly for his horse. The battle-trained beast was unfazed by the chaos around him and he whinnied when Thor grabbed a handful of his mane and pulled him close. "Mjölnir, they have Loki. I cannot leave these people here to suffer but I cannot lose Loki either. Follow them; go – I will find you as soon as I can." Mjölnir neighed and shook his great head; he bumped Thor's head with his nose and then took off running.

Thor kept at it, fighting the fire with the innkeepers and anyone else who would lend a hand until one of the stable boys came to find him. "If you please, your highness, there is someone who calls for you!"

Thor handed the rope of the well’s pulley to the biggest man he could flag down and followed the boy, both of them sliding to a stop next to a man lying on the ground; he was just regaining consciousness. 

"Wilhelm!" Thor shouted when he recognised the face under all that soot and blood. He’d suffered a serious wound to his head.

"Highness!" Wilhelm croaked, coughing. "My Prince...?"

"Taken," Thor spat, grabbing the man by the neck. "Were you party to this?"

"No, no!" the man choked past Thor's increasingly tight hold. "The foot...men. They attacked when they came to relieve me of my watch."

Thor released him. "Aye, I saw them. Who are they? Where might they be taking him?"

"They are of our kingdom, but I don't know!" The man looked frantic. "The Prince is not weak! He could've fought off his attackers with his magic easily."

"One of them had skills with magic," Thor told him. "And the manacles they used to bind Loki's hands were not common; I have not seen the like before; they were covered with runes. Same with the metal gag they put over his mouth. It looked like foul magic."

Wilhelm's eyes widened, and he looked terrified. "I have seen those before."

Thor's heart almost stopped. "His sisters?"

"Yes," Wilhelm whispered raggedly. "Hela in particular."

"I need to go," Thor said, strangled, as he looked around desperately for a horse that wasn't showing the effects of inhaling smoke.

"Our horses are not here," Wilhelm said, looking around as he struggled to his feet; Thor held out his hand and the man stared at it for a long second before accepting it gratefully. "They are horses of the North like yours; I cannot imagine that they would've answered to those two traitors!"

"No, the footmen and the rest had ordinary rides."

"Then our horses must be close; I will call for them," he said, hobbling to the gates, away from the fire that was fast burning itself out as people worked hard around them to douse the flames. Once he got there, Wilhelm spoke as loud as he could, in the language of the North; it sounded nothing like the sweet words that Loki had said to Mjölnir though it was the same tongue.

In less than a minute, they heard the thundering hooves of the two massive black mares who had pulled the carriage. They came to a stop before the driver, whinnying and looking a little crazed; thankfully, though, they didn't look injured. They were bridled but neither had saddles.

"Forgive me, your highness," Wilhelm said, "but you will have to assist me."

"Perhaps it is better if you stayed behind; you do not look well."

"I will not leave my Prince at the hands of traitors, highness," he replied, looking determined. "The Queen will have my head for letting him be taken, and I will happily summon the executioner myself! But for now, please let me help. Also, you cannot speak our language, and these horses do not understand the common tongue like yours does."

"Good point," Thor acquiesced, lifting the man onto one of the horses. He held out his hand and called for Stormbreaker; it flew into his hand from where he'd dropped it near the well. "Can you ask your horses to track mine? I sent him after Loki."

Wilhelm looked impressed. "You really love him, don't you?"

"I do," Thor said fiercely.

Of that there was no doubt left in his mind, even if none had been there to begin with; he’d known from the first instant he’d seen Loki. Where Thor had once scoffed at love, he now believed in it wholeheartedly. He loved Loki and, whether or not Loki accepted his suit, Thor was going to do everything in his power to ensure that Loki lived long enough to get his Happily Ever After.

 

*** * ***


	4. Chapter 4

 

Loki’s head throbbed; it was sharp shooting pain followed by prolonged aching; it made him nauseous, but he managed to swallow down the bile rising in his throat.

Despite the pain, he was able to raise his head; he was face down in the dirt, he realised, his hands bound beneath his body and his mouth gagged. Panic welled in his chest because he knew exactly to whom the magical bonds belonged: his sister Hela.

She’d used them on him before, after all. 

How had he let down his guard long enough for her men to get to him? How stupid was he to think that he was safe outside the borders of his kingdom just because his sisters could not get past the border barrier? There were ways around it, after all; like not needing to physically leave the Eighth in order to make contact with the villainous underbelly of the rest of the Nine.

The man who’d used magic to bind and capture him was likely a warlock mercenary for hire; if Loki hadn’t been asleep, lulled into a false security by having Thor across the hall from him, and a footman – or rather, a _traitor_ – at his door, he would not have been so easily overpowered.

When his nausea finally subsided and the pain in his head had diminished to a dull ache, he took in the sounds around him: horses neighing loudly, their hooves stamping on the ground; the heavy clank of swords glancing off one another, the shouts of pain as men were slashed by blades; and, over the din, the best sound of all: Thor’s irate voice.

Loki rolled over onto his back and scrambled to sit up; the first thing he saw was Mjölnir raising his forelegs to kick one of the footmen who’d betrayed Loki right in the chest; the man flew into a nearby tree with such force that Loki heard his spine crack; he fell down wheezing and drew his last breath mere seconds later. When he did, his face changed, an apparent glamour falling from it; the visage beneath the glamour was that of a stranger.

Loki blinked and shook his head, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He was distracted when Thor’s horse whinnied and came to Loki, butting his nose against Loki’s hands until Loki hooked his arms as well as he could around Mjölnir’s head, grabbing his mane and, as the horse raised his head, Loki was able to stand as well.

He would’ve fallen right back down, dizzy with the blow to the head he’d been dealt, if not for Wilhelm appearing at his side, sword in hand, to prop up Loki’s body with his own.

“Highness!” the old man exclaimed. He was dirty and covered in soot; he also had a nasty cut on his forehead crusted over with dried blood. Suddenly Loki was seeing two of him, so he shook his head to clear his double vision. “Easy, your highness. Easy.”

Loki glared at him; he wasn't a spooked horse that needed soothing! He was glad for Wilhelm’s support, though, and gladder still when he heard an angry bellow in the distance. He found Thor easily, beset by five men; three more lay dead at his feet. He fought magnificently, brandishing both his broadsword and his axe like they weighed nothing, fighting with a skill unsurpassed by any warrior Loki had ever seen in combat.

Loki frowned; he’d counted eleven men in the troupe that had taken him and, with the man dead by the tree, that meant that two of his kidnappers were missing, including their mercenary leader.

Even as he wondered about their whereabouts, the two men suddenly materialised before them in a puff of smoke. Only the leader had any magical skill, Loki was quick to note, but his spellwork included his comrade. That man, the other of Loki’s footmen – or the men apparently glamoured to look like his footmen – lunged at Wilhelm. In the split second that Wilhelm released Loki and raised his sword, Mjölnir rose up on his hind legs again, making the footman cower in fear and wave his own sword, frantically trying to ward off the powerful stallion.

Loki swore in his head; if that man even grazed Thor’s magnificent steed, Loki would not let him live. Wilhelm must have thought the same for he met the footman’s blade with his own and they battled.

Loki was so distracted at Wilhelm’s surprising proficiency with his sword that he almost missed his abductor – the magic-wielder – drawing a sword on him. The man flourished it in a pathetic display he undoubtedly assumed would scare Loki, but his supposed skill was paltry compared to Loki’s own prowess with a blade. Loki stood his ground and stared down the man, contempt emanating from every pore in his body.

The man laughed at him and touched the tip of his sword to the soft skin just under Loki’s chin. “I could slice your throat open, right now,” the rotter sneered, “but your sister has promised to reward me handsomely if I bring you back alive. Imagine how much she will give me when my men capture the First Prince as well. That is if I decide to let him live, which, all things considered, I don’t think is quite necessary for your sisters’ needs.”

Loki wondered at his gall. Hela was more likely to hack off his head than pay him for his ‘services’. Also, what needs? And had he not noticed that Thor had already killed three of the eight men who’d challenged him? The very thought of this man killing Thor was ludicrous; unless, of course, he was more skilled in dark magic than he seemed.

Despite his creeping concern, Loki kept his calm, looking for all intents as if he routinely stared down the edge of a blade. Which, to be fair considering who his sisters were, he did. The disgusting blackguard was slowly becoming incensed at his lack of reaction.

“You think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you?” he spat, coming closer. As he did, his sword morphed into a sharp dagger, and its much pointier edge drew blood from Loki's chin.

Loki ignored the prick of pain and raised a single supercilious eyebrow at him: of course he was high and mighty; he was a _Prince_.

The man dragged the dagger down the column of Loki’s neck with a sick sort of reverence, not drawing any more blood but probably leaving a long red welt. He came closer but Loki planted his feet and stood his ground, and the sounds of the swordfight around them faded.

Loki flexed his magic but it wouldn’t budge; the bonds that Hela had created were too powerful, and he could not expend what little energy he had to try and break them. He was sorely tempted though, especially when the repulsive wretch dared to touch Loki, rubbing his mouth along Loki's cheek, just above where the ensorcelled metal gag that bound Loki’s speech dug into his cheek. Loki longed to recoil from his touch, but to capitulate would be to show weakness and weak was one thing Loki would never be.

“I hear you are untouched,” the man muttered into Loki’s ear, sounding positively gleeful about it; Loki suppressed a shudder. “Your sister said she wanted you alive, but she said nothing about the condition in which you were to be returned.” He grabbed Loki’s arse and squeezed hard; Loki clenched his jaw but did nothing else to reveal his utter revulsion and creeping fear at the man’s abhorrent touch. “I’ve been tracking you from the moment you left your kingdom. I saw all you did, even during the ball in the White Palace,” he revealed.

That startled Loki and the man laughed.

“Oh yes,” he boasted, groping him; Loki clenched his arse cheeks for, through his thin pyjamas, it felt like the brute’s filthy hand was touching his bare skin. His abductor was not amused and hauled him closer, panting as he spoke. “I’m more powerful than even your sister gives me credit for. I wore a glamour and blended right in. I watched you all night; you were beautiful; your body is _perfection_. I begged for a dance but your scribe was resolute in giving that privilege only to those of royal blood. I wanted you so badly but you only had eyes for that imbecile from the First. Isn’t it ironic, then, that the _first_ cock to claim you will be mine?” He pressed his body into Loki’s side, his disgusting hot breath fanning Loki’s cheeks, the hand not holding the dagger to his throat grasping him tightly about the waist. Loki gagged when he felt evidence of the man’s vile desire against his hip. “See what you do to me?” he asked with a grunt, rolling his hips as he pressed even closer. “I will have you, your highness.  When this is over – when your Prince is _dead_ – I will have you.”

Loki snorted with muffled laughter; Thor would not go down without a fight, and this pathetic bastard would never survive it. 

The man grabbed his hair and yanked his head back; Loki tried not to wince in pain. “Oh, you think that funny? That the great Prince Thor will fall to my men? You have your driver to thank for that. Imagine my delight when he stopped for refreshment in a place with the most powerful Wishing Well in all the Nine.”

Loki’s heart stopped, and the man laughed.

“Not so funny now, is it? I can rest easy in the knowledge that your Prince will not kill me. He _cannot._ I have wished it and my wish was granted by the Well. So, when my men have tired him out for me, _I_ will kill _him_ , and take his heart to Hela.”

Loki saw red. 

So incensed was he that he didn’t think, he just acted, stepping hard on the man’s instep and, when his abductor doubled over in surprised pain, Loki kneed him right in the bollocks. That would show him where he could stuff his wishes, and his loyalty to Hela. Sure, Loki’s actions caused the dagger to nick the skin at his collarbone, but the small amount of blood spilled was well worth it. Before the man could rise to his feet and exact his revenge, Wilhelm stepped in between them.

“Keep your foul hands to yourself, you fiend!” he warned, his sword raised threateningly. Loki scanned the forest floor and found the other man impersonating his footman dead, a gaping wound in his chest and the mark of a horseshoe on his forehead.

In the distance, Thor now only faced three men.

Loki jumped in shock when he and Wilhelm were both suddenly blinded by a red flash: his captor had shot a spell at Wilhelm, who was now gasping for breath. Wilhelm turned to push Loki out of the way and yelled: “Run!”

In that same instant, a sword materialised in his captor’s hand and, before Loki could even blink, the warlock had plunged his sword into Wilhelm’s back, running him through with it.

Loki’s muffled yell was drowned out by Wilhelm’s scream, his face contorting with pain as blood gushed from the wound in his chest. The warlock laughed maniacally as he pulled his sword from Wilhelm’s body.

Without thinking, Loki grabbed Wilhelm’s sword with his bound hands and, as the driver fell face first to the ground, Loki leapt over him and tried to bury his blade into his abductor’s chest.

The man blocked his thrust but Loki persevered; just because he favoured daggers did not mean he wasn’t also a keen swordsman. The manacles at his wrists bound his magic but they did little to restrain his two-handed skills with a blade. 

He fought the mercenary ferociously; in his mind’s eye all he saw was Wilhelm’s chest spurting with blood. He was _enraged_ ; that old man had been nothing but good to him; he’d showed him kindness when no one else could or would, and now he was gone.

Loki’s chest heaved with the savagery of his rage; he wasn’t about to let this foul excuse for a man and magic-wielder go without paying for Wilhelm’s death. 

It was his only thought when he spun on his heel, his bare feet sliding in the damp soil and adding ease to his movement. He feinted right while going left, aiming low when anyone else would’ve gone high, and he sliced through the man’s hamstring, effectively crippling him. His abductor screamed in pain and fell to his knees. 

Despite his anger, watching his captor fall was a shocking sight; Loki had done that. The man was screaming in pain and bleeding profusely from his wound and _Loki had done that_.

The sword fell from his hand as bile rose once again in his throat. He’d never hurt anything in his life and, now, he’d hamstrung a man. No matter how well deserved the hamstringing was, Loki wanted no part of something that made him anything like his sisters.

He was about to turn away when the mercenary raised his hand, infuriated as he tried to breathe through his obvious pain and summon his magic. Instinctively bending to pick up the dropped sword, Loki froze in momentary indecision, sword in slack hands, knowing that it was probably too little too late.

He’d never felt more useless in his life, or so helpless; like his fate was being chosen for him because, with his magic bound, the only way to protect himself was to kill his captor. He tightened his grip and positioned the sword, and tried to catch his breath even though it felt like he was shaking out of his skin. 

He snapped his eyes shut just as he swung.

He heard a thudding metallic crunch, and a choked off pained grunt, but his blade sliced through air. 

Then there was silence.

When he dared to open his eyes, it was to see Mjölnir’s face before him, Thor’s horse huffing softly as he butted his nose against Loki’s chest. Loki’s gaze flicked to the ground; his abductor was dead; he looked away quickly so only the briefest image of the man’s body – headless now from the sheer force of Mjölnir’s mighty hooves – registered in his mind. 

 _Be careful what you wish for, you foul fuck_ , he thought viciously, dropping the sword and leaning into Mjölnir’s big body in gratitude before pushing off and running to Wilhelm.

He dropped to his knees and tried to bunch Wilhelm’s shirttails and jacket over his wound to try and stem the flow of blood. A sob tore out of his throat when he saw the old man’s ashen pallor, but the sound was stifled by his gag. He wished fervently that he could speak, to at least be able to say how much he’d appreciated Wilhelm’s stoic support and silent companionship over the years, even though neither of them could ever own up to it. 

“Come...closer,” Wilhelm whispered raggedly, and Loki did, grabbing and holding tight to the hand Wil extended to him. “I’m...sorry I couldn’t protect you, my prince.” Loki shook his head, his tears falling on Wilhelm’s face. “Stay with...Prince Thor. He...he... _loves_ you.” He inhaled shakily, and Loki feared it would be his last breath even as he reeled from Wil’s words. “You have ever been...my little friend...”

Wilhelm passed with his eyes half open, so Loki closed them for him. He blinked away his tears but they just kept flowing as he rocked back and forth, his hands clenched into bloody fists in his lap. In the background, he heard Mjölnir neighing and Thor bellowing. 

Footfalls ran up behind him but Thor slowed as he approached, gasping when he saw Loki leaning over Wil. He fell to his knees at Loki's side and, after a minute, he placed one of his hands atop both of Loki's.

“Are you hurt?”

Loki shook his head before nodding at Wil; Thor reached out to cup the nape of his neck in comfort, still not daring to pull him close. 

But Loki needed him; he needed Thor desperately. To hold him together because otherwise he was going to fall apart. Still sobbing, Loki looped his bound hands around Thor's neck and, careful not to touch his manacles or gag to Thor’s skin, he buried his face in Thor’s shoulder, crying out his anger and frustration while Thor soothed him and pressed gentle kisses to his temple.

"I'm so sorry, Loki," Thor whispered. "He was a good man, your friend." 

Loki nodded, still not willing to let him go, but Thor pulled back, frowning as his eyes narrowed in on Loki's gag. He reached out to touch but Loki flinched away; Hela's magic was vile – who knew what it might do to Thor? He slowly – reluctantly – withdrew his hands from around Thor's neck.

“How can I help to rid you of these horrible things?”Thor asked, grabbing Loki's hands when he tried to move away. "Don't. Stay. I only wish to see," he said as he studied the manacles and the gag a little closer. He swore, loudly and colourfully. "They are burning you slowly, Loki. The skin is torn here; it must pain you greatly." 

It did, Loki thought, and wondered how he could communicate to Thor that the bonds also weakened him and drained him of his magic the longer he kept them on; time was of the essence. 

Thor caught his look. “Shall we return to the Fourth? Perhaps Wendell can summon the Council Mages? At the very least we could return to the Wishing Well and try to get them off there..."

Loki shook his head frantically. No, too many people relied on that Well for simple good wishes and healing; the only way the Well might have a chance to remove his bonds would be if he was submerged into it, and he was not about to sully its waters with Hela's dark magic.

He also didn't think that the Council Mages, though strong, could break Hela's bonds; she was smart, and there were probably spells intertwined with her dark magic that could backfire spectacularly on someone unfamiliar with her signature.  No, for the safety of innocent bystanders, there were only two people other than his sisters who could untwist Hela’s magic and, with Loki's own magic trapped and bound, that just left their mother. And he and Thor were much closer to the Eighth Kingdom now anyway. 

"What can I do then?" Thor asked, his eyes wild with desperation.

Loki pointed due North.

Thor frowned mightily. "Wilhelm said he’d seen these bonds before – they belong to your sister, Hela, do they not?”

Loki nodded.

“Then the Eighth Kingdom is the last place I want to take you!”

 _But you must_ , Loki thought, hoping Thor could read his intent in his expression.

“She’s the only one who can break the bonds?”

Loki shook his head and then brought his hands up to his head, his fingers fanned out like the spikes of a crown.

“The Queen?” Thor asked, not looking too pleased; Loki nodded. “Very well. I will take you to her then. But I cannot enter the Ice Kingdom without permission.” Loki pointed to himself. “You will grant me entry? But you cannot speak it.” He rested his palm over his heart and Thor understood. “It is the intention that matters? Let’s be off then,” Thor told him, whistling for Mjölnir. “I would not have you bound like this for a second longer than need be.” 

Loki looked around to assess their situation. They were in the midst of a forest and, with the half-moon hiding behind the clouds, it was too dark to see much of anything. They needed to get back on the road for, even if it was the longer way to the borders of the Eighth Kingdom, it was the safest route. Too many nasty things lurked in the shadows of the forests of the Nine; Thor might’ve been able to battle them but he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against dark magic, especially since Loki couldn’t wield his own shielding magic. 

As a sudden thought struck him, Loki grabbed Thor’s hand and, once he got Thor to focus, he traced letters on his palm. 

“R-o-a-d.” 

Thor looked a little starry eyed. “You’re so clever.” 

Loki rolled his eyes at him in fond exasperation as Thor looked into the dark. 

“There may be a quicker way through the woods,” he said. 

Loki resolutely shook his head. 

“You’re right; who knows what lurks in the dark?” 

“W-e-a-k-e-r,” Loki spelled out the word and then tapped his gag and manacles. 

“Oh no,” Thor whispered in horror. “We need to be quick, then. Come.”

Taking one last look at Wilhelm in farewell, Loki followed him. Thor went ahead to Mjölnir and, when Loki caught up with him, he was shaking out his cloak, which he then wrapped around Loki’s shoulders. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, illuminating their surroundings a bit. Thor guided him to a large puddle nearby; it must’ve rained earlier in the day out here. Loki bent and washed Wilhelm’s blood off his hands before straightening; Thor then gently wiped them clean in the folds of his cape, before kneeling himself. One by one he lifted Loki’s feet and washed the dirt off them while Loki just stood there...stunned. 

When Thor was satisfied, he looked at him, a winsome smile on his face. “They’ll just get dirty again if you walk. Will you allow me to carry you to Mjölnir? You’ll probably need a hand onto Mjölnir with your hands bound, anyway. He’s a bit on the big side...like me.”

Loki smiled ruefully against his gag; _yes, just a little_ , he thought, looking up at Thor’s horse that stood at probably just over twenty hands tall. He nodded and Thor rose, effortlessly lifting him in his strong arms and quickly depositing him sideways in the saddle. 

He watched as Thor rooted around in his saddle bag and, noticing Thor’s riding gloves tucked into the one of the wrappings around the ornate pommel, he pulled them out and handed them to him, urging him to put them on. He touched the gag on his face in explanation. 

Thor, looking strangely touched, took them and tucked them into his belt. When Loki frowned, he held out a pair of thick knitted socks in his hand. “May I?” Loki nodded and Thor pulled the socks over his now drier feet. Then he pulled his gloves on. “I just wanted to say,” he murmured as he took Loki’s hands in his and kissed them, “that I have wished for Heimdall. I don’t know how long he’ll be because he’s been a little hard to get a hold of recently, but I’ve asked him to hurry. I’ve asked him to help return Wilhelm to your homeland for the proper funeral rites befitting a hero of the Eighth Kingdom.” 

Loki startled, his head snapping down to look at Thor, his throat tightening and eyes hot. He hoped his gratitude was conveyed in his gaze.

“It is the least I could do,” Thor told him, as he reached up to cradle Loki’s face in his gloved hands. “Perhaps if I had been able to dispense with my attackers more quickly, he would not have died.” 

Loki gripped one of Thor’s wrists and shook his head; this was not Thor’s fault in any way. If anyone was to blame, it was Loki himself: for not being on his guard, for not acting fast enough to protect himself, for being an idiot and underestimating his sisters. 

Thor studied him closely. “You’re right; I think those men I fought had some...dark advantage. It prolonged the fight. But,” he emphasised, “it’s _not_ your fault either. You were asleep when they took you; there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

Loki sighed, his heart fluttering in his chest, and stared at him probably like a moonstruck calf.

Thor smiled. “Hug?” 

Loki nodded gratefully, again looping his arms around Thor’s neck, wishing he wasn’t gagged so that he could tuck in as close as possible, hide his face in the crook of Thor’s neck, breathe in his sandalwood scent, and savour the warmth of his body. As it was, he just let himself fall off the horse and into Thor’s waiting arms. He rested his cheek against Thor’s shoulder and allowed Thor to stroke his back, smooth his dishevelled hair, and kiss his temple. 

Far too soon, and with a smacking kiss to his forehead, Thor pulled back. “Front or back?” he asked, nodding in Mjölnir’s direction. 

Loki patted his chest. 

“Front it is,” Thor said, lifting Loki again until it was easier to tuck his foot in the stirrup and throw his other leg over the horse. Once he was seated, Thor climbed up behind him.

Loki tried not to lean too much against him, but Thor picked up the reins and wrapped an arm around Loki’s midriff, pulling him close. 

“Mjölnir, ride like the wind!” he called. 

The great horse of the North reared up on his hind legs and, as both his riders held on for dear life, he galloped towards the road.

 

* * *

 

They rode fast and they rode hard, but Loki couldn’t remember much of the journey. He drifted in and out of exhausted sleep, and the only real thing he knew was the warmth of Thor’s body at his back.

It was still dark when they finally arrived at the border between the Fourth and Eighth Kingdoms. He was awakened by Mjölnir coming to an abrupt stop. Opening his eyes was a feat and, despite the situation, when Loki looked out over the icy plains of his Kingdom in the distance, he felt the familiar sweet call of his homeland. 

Behind him, Thor heaved in a deep breath; if only circumstances were different, Loki thought, if he had lived a different life, he would’ve loved to show Thor the magic and majesty of his Kingdom.

At the border’s edge, the magical barrier that kept outsiders out and citizens of the Eighth within glittered like a shimmery veil. Beyond it was a wintry wasteland as far as the eye could see, a stark contrast to the warmth and lush green forests of the Fourth Kingdom in which they were currently standing. Loki eased the reins from Thor’s hands and urged Mjölnir forward with a squeeze of his knees; they approached the barrier with caution.

Thor startled when Mjölnir’s head went right through the veil without any problem. But Thor’s horse was one of the North; like Loki, he too was just returning to his homeland. 

“I keep forgetting he hails from your Kingdom,” Thor murmured, reaching out to touch the barrier like the idiot he sometimes was. 

Loki slapped his hand.

“Sorry,” Thor apologised bashfully. “It's very pretty.” 

Loki shook his head, a bit too fondly, so he was glad Thor couldn’t see his face. Then he closed his eyes and, grasping Thor’s hands in his, he inhaled deeply, focusing on his intent to allow Thor entrance into his Kingdom.

For a second, nothing happened. But then a small break in the sparkly veil appeared, like a tiny tear in a dragonfly’s gossamer wing. It widened as Loki focussed harder and then parted like a curtain. Loki breathed a sigh of relief; he hadn’t been sure it would work with his magic bound, but luckily the barrier was formed from a different sort of magic that was separate enough from his own trapped powers for it to still work. 

He nudged his heels against Mjölnir’s flanks; as soon as they fully passed through the barrier and the cold hit him them, he turned to Thor with a worried gaze. 

“What is it?” Thor asked. 

He nodded in Thor's direction and gestured towards the Eighth Kingdom, affecting a deep full body shudder. 

“Yes, it is cold. Would you like my jacket as well?”

Loki rolled his eyes and shook his head, weakly thumping Thor's knee with their enjoined hands. 

“Oh! Cold for me? Yes, undoubtedly.” The corner of his mouth tipped up in a sweet smile as he hugged Loki closer. “I will withstand it as much as I can and get you as close to the Ice Castle as possible. If I succumb to the cold, well...journey on with Mjölnir. He will bear you safely to the castle in my stead.” 

Loki stared at him a bit wondrously; Thor’s kindness was doing all sorts of warm and shivery things to Loki’s usually cold heart, and that was on top of the customary tingles he felt every time he so much as looked at him. He tightened his hold on Thor’s hands; Loki would be damned if he let any harm befall him. 

Still, Thor would soon freeze if they journeyed on without protection; it was probably a good two-hour ride to the castle even with Mjölnir’s swiftness. Loki was naturally much more resilient to the cold, despite his weakened state. Well, he hoped he was anyway; he’d never had Hela’s bonds on for this long before. She’d always released him before he could scar, so as not to raise their mother’s suspicions.

Loki shook his head to clear it; he always sunk into a dark place when he dwelled overmuch on what his sisters had done to him in the past. He tugged at Thor’s cloak around his shoulders and indicated that it was big enough to shield both of them from the cold. It took Thor a few seconds to get his meaning but he eventually managed to remove the cloak from Loki’s body and wrap it instead around both of them, this time with Loki tucked in tighter into his big body’s warmth. 

They rode on, the cold becoming bitter with the wind that blew across the plains. Luckily, Loki thought, it wasn’t snowing and the moon here was not obscured by clouds. They saw their path clearly and Loki’s heart lifted when he heard the clear familiar call of a snowy owl in the distance. 

He tapped Thor’s knee and got him to slow Mjölnir to a stop. Raising his eyes to the skies, he soon saw Halvar soaring above; he’d probably been watching for Loki’s return. 

“What is it, Loki?” Thor asked, his breath warm but his teeth chattering against Loki’s ear. Loki pointed to the owl in the sky and Thor squinted up at it, confused. “Beautiful creature, but why have we stopped?” he asked as Halvar swooped low. 

Loki raised Thor’s right hand with both of his and the large bird landed in the crook of Thor’s elbow; Loki could not bear its weight in his current weakened state. It studied Thor intently, before transferring its attention Loki, turning its head this way and that while intelligent amber eyes took in the manacles at his wrists and the gag binding his mouth.

Loki turned to Thor and gestured frantically, pointing to his gag, mimicking the crown on his head, and then pointing to the owl. 

“You want me to tell the owl what happened?” Loki nodded and Thor looked at Halvar. “Loki was kidnapped,” he began in earnest, “and these bonds were placed on him to bind his magic. We need the Queen’s help to remove them, and quickly! He is getting weaker and the magic burns his skin. Please hurry!” 

The wise old owl tilted its head at Loki once again and nodded, spreading its massive wings before taking flight once again. Loki urged Thor to ride on. Halvar would get word to his mother a lot quicker than they could ride to the castle; Loki was just grateful that they hadn’t first come across any of his sisters’ winged spies. Yet. They had to be careful. 

Even though he tried to stay hypervigilant as they rode, Loki eventually succumbed to his bonds and drifted off; whether he fell asleep or actually lost consciousness he wasn’t sure, but he was jerked awake again by Mjölnir neighing loudly as he reared up on his hind legs. 

Thor kept a tight hold of both Loki and the reins as they watched a tornado of ice and snow heading at speed towards them. Loki, recognising his mother’s spellwork, patted the horse soothingly but then his mother suddenly materialised in front of them, spooking both Mjölnir and Thor. 

She was a picture of icy rage, her eyes blindingly white and her long red-gold curls thrashing in the wind like whipcord-thin snakes. 

Loki threw his hands up in front of them but it was too late. The Snow Queen let loose her magic, and the snow billowing around her formed into a net, not unlike what the fishermen of the North used to catch large shoals. When she cast it, it blew through Loki and captured Thor, throwing him off Mjölnir and to the ground, trapping him on the snowy plain. 

Loki didn’t hesitate; he practically leapt off the horse. He fell, of course, because he was as weak as a kitten, but he managed to get to his feet and stumbled towards Thor. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest, and every second counted; that net of ice and snow would soon burn through Thor’s skin if he didn’t get it off soon.

“Loki, no!” Thor shouted when Loki touched the net to pull it off. Loki ignored him and yanked until the hooks tethering the ice net to the ground around Thor snapped off.

“Loki! What are you doing?” his mother’s thunderous voice asked from behind him. Loki whipped around to face her, panic in his eyes as he still yanked at the net around Thor’s legs. 

But at least with his arms free now, Thor summoned his axe and cut the rest of the ice net off himself while Loki placed his body firmly between Thor and his mother, his arms outstretched towards her in supplication, his expression placating.

He elbowed Thor in the gut and pointedly nodded in his mother’s direction. 

“Your majesty...” Thor started, quite respectfully Loki thought.

“Silence!” the Queen interrupted, very not-so-respectfully. “How dare you take my son! Release him from his bonds at once!”

“I didn’t take him, and I didn’t bind him! I brought him home to you so you could help him!” Thor shouted, his civility short-lived. “His abductor bound his magic and neither Loki nor I can break him free from it.” He wrapped an arm around Loki’s waist and the gesture – meant to be a comfort, Loki supposed – angered his mother.

“Remove your hand at once!”

“No! Can you not see that he can barely stand?” Thor yelled incredulously. “Berate me as much as you wish later but free him first. The foul magic in these bonds burn him! Please! Please, your majesty; I beg you!”

The Queen’s eyes returned to their normal crystalline blue as she narrowed her gaze at Loki’s bonds. 

“Who was his abductor?” she demanded as she stalked closer; to Loki’s surprise, she actually sounded concerned. 

“No idea; we didn’t have time to exchange pleasantries,” Thor drawled. Loki rolled his eyes at Thor’s unwise audacity; when he opened his mouth to say more, Loki jabbed him in the gut again and he fell silent.

Loki raised his hands to his mother and she grasped his fingers briefly in hers before holding them out over the manacles and calling forth her magic. Wisps of white magic formed at her fingertips and encircled Loki’s bonds, seeping over and under them like an icy serpent, tightening its hold on the ensorcelled metal and trying to pull it apart. Pain shot through Loki’s arms as Hela’s magic fought back; he grimaced as his whole body seized with pain. His mother frowned when she saw his expression and redoubled her efforts. Within seconds, the manacles snapped; the broken pieces flew into the Queen’s outstretched hands and she vanished them, no doubt to study them later.

Loki would’ve collapsed had Thor not been holding him; he felt faint as his magic coursed unbridled once again through his body. Now came the tricky part: removing the gag at his mouth. Luckily, Loki had done this before; he knew exactly how to unravel Hela’s magic here; he just hoped she hadn’t changed her signature to something more powerful.

He felt his magic surge; it felt good, but the gag was not letting it reach its full potential yet. No matter, though; he knew instinctively that it would still be enough to free himself. The aquamarine tendril of magic that formed at his fingertip slipped its way in between the metal pieces of the bewitched gag. Loki closed his eyes and envisioned unlocking the dark magic there as though his own magic was weaving through a convoluted maze. He didn’t get caught up in dead ends this time, though; his magic knew exactly where to go and, in a minute, the gag fell, but it too flew into the Queen’s hand before it could hit the ground. Loki, however, did hit the ground as he fell.

Thor went down with him and cupped his face in his hands. “Loki?”

“I’m fine,” he croaked, leaning his forehead on Thor’s broad shoulder, relieved to feel his magic back at full-force, empowering his mind and restoring his strength somewhat. 

Thor cupped the back of his neck soothingly and drew him closer until their foreheads touched; with his other hand, he gently cupped Loki’s chin. “That thing burned your face and wrists,” he whispered. “Can you heal it?” 

“I can,” his mother said from above them, and they both jumped; Loki had forgotten her presence; he was pretty sure Thor had too. 

He raised his head to look at his mother as her magic reached out to him, quickly healing the broken and burned skin on his wrists and face. Loki breathed a sigh of relief but noted that her shrewd eyes kept darting between him and Thor, both curious and furious. He reached out his hand to her as he tried to shield Thor from her legendary temper.

“Your majesty,” he greeted his mother as he attempted to stand. Thor helped him up, effortlessly lifting Loki atop his boots so Loki’s now wet and freezing sock-clad feet were no longer buried in the snow. Loki shot a bolt of magic downwards and his feet were soon warm and dry in a pair of boots. Thor then whipped the cloak from around his shoulders, wrapping it around Loki’s body instead. Loki threw him an exasperated look over his shoulder. “I don’t need it as much as you do." 

“You’re in your pyjamas!”

“I am of this Kingdom, and you are shivering!” 

Thor pouted. “You never just let me take care of you.” 

Loki rolled his eyes. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I _know_ that, but it’s still nice to be looked after, isn’t it?” Thor asked as he gently rubbed Loki’s arms to warm them. “ _I_ like it when someone takes care of me.” 

“That’s because you’re a big baby,” Loki muttered, leaning into Thor’s warm touch anyway because, yes, it felt incredibly nice. He whispered a warming charm into Thor’s clothes and smirked when Thor sighed blissfully and gave Loki a grateful squeeze.

His mother loudly clearing her throat reminded them of her presence again, and what in the fairying forests was wrong with him? Thor made all his common sense vanish into the ether. 

“Hello, mother,” he said sheepishly. 

“Hello, son,” she mimicked acerbically. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to introduce your very impolite companion who seems to think he can take whatever liberties he wants with your person.”

Loki momentarily closed his eyes and braced himself with a nice, deep breath of icy air; he quickly regained his princely composure. “Thor, may I present her majesty Frigga, the Snow Queen of the Eighth Kingdom; mother, this is his royal highness Prince Thor of the First Kingdom.” Loki paused but, apart from squinting at each other neither Thor nor his mother acknowledged the introduction. Loki sighed and continued: “Prince Thor was to accompany me to our borders at the behest of King Wendell,” Loki explained. “When we stopped for the night, I was attacked and abducted by someone – a mercenary warlock, I think – who bound my magic. He...killed my driver.”

“He killed Wilhelm?” the Queen asked, obviously shaken. 

Loki frowned. “You knew Wilhelm?” 

“Of course I knew him! He was tasked to protect you from the time of your childhood! He was no mere coachman; he was one of my Elite Guard!” 

Loki fell back into Thor’s chest in shock. “Elite... _Guard?_ ” 

He stared at his mother; could she have actually cared for him all this time despite all appearances to the contrary? Or had she just been providing him with the security that was expected for a Prince? It did explain a lot about Wilhelm, though; the man had been scarily good at taking care of him without making it obvious to other people – his sisters especially. 

His mother looked infuriated. “How did this mercenary even get near you?” She darted a venomous look in Thor’s direction. “Were you betrayed?” 

“No!” Loki almost shouted; Thor hugged him tighter; he may even have felt his lips press a grateful kiss to the back of Loki’s head. “Thor would never...” 

His mother squinted at him, still unconvinced. “Perhaps you were distracted?” 

At his back, Thor bristled. “He was asleep!” 

“How would _you_ know?” the Queen asked, her tone accusatory. “If you have corrupted or compromised my son in any way, I will never let you leave this Kingdom alive!”

Loki gasped in horror, putting his entire body in front of Thor and summoning his magic to him just in case; he wasn’t strong enough to fight his mother but he would die trying to protect Thor from her ire. “He was asleep in another room, mother!” he cried. “I was betrayed by our own footmen! No, that’s not quite true. I think the warlock killed our footmen and used glamours on two of his own men, so they looked like our footmen. That’s how the mercenary got into my room! If not for Thor being a light sleeper, I don’t know what would’ve become of me!” 

“He...saved you?” the Queen asked, still suspicious.

“Loki saved himself,” Thor said, almost sounding like he was bragging. 

“Actually, Mjölnir saved me,” Loki said, nodding to Thor’s mighty steed. 

His mother looked at Mjölnir; the horse bowed his head before his Queen and she smiled smugly. “I would expect nothing less from a horse of the North,” she boasted before sobering once more. “Who was this mercenary? He can’t’ve been from our Kingdom, but the magic in those bonds feels familiar though I cannot seem to place it.” 

“I did not recognise him, nor do I recognise the magical signature on those bonds, mother; I’m sorry,” Loki said before Thor could open his big mouth. He squeezed Thor’s arm and hoped he knew to keep quiet. His mother would not believe him if she knew the truth, and now was not the time to share it with her. 

Because, Loki thought as his hackles rose along with gooseflesh on his arms; they were being watched. He swept Thor’s cape closer as if to ward off the cold, but really he just wanted to pull Thor himself closer. 

His sisters had arrived. 

His entire demeanour changed and, under his breath, he furtively cast a quick protective spell over Thor and Mjölnir; it wasn’t much but it would shield them from unseen harm. 

His mother, too, became instantly alert. “Show yourselves, daughters,” she demanded, wasting no time. 

In a sudden and vicious blast of ice and snow, Loki’s sisters materialised: 

Hela was dark and dangerous as always; she looked like Loki with her long black hair and slate green eyes but that was where the resemblance ended. She had come as if prepared for battle, dressed all in black, in a skin-tight leather bodysuit and billowing cape; her horned obsidian crown sat atop her head like a stag’s antlers. She never did anything by halves and, even with her black heart, on the outside she looked absolutely stunning. If she was disappointed to still see Loki in one piece and not accompanied by the man she had hired to abduct him, she didn’t show it. 

Amora, appeared at their older sister’s right hand, with Lorelei on the left, both ready as always to do Hela’s bidding. These two of his sisters resembled each other more than they resembled either Hela or Loki, with the only difference being that Amora was blonde and Lorelei was a redhead. They were both incredibly beautiful and they knew it; they’d been corrupted by it, as had Hela.

Out of the corner of Loki’s eye, he noticed that Thor was staring at them...utterly agape.

Loki’s sisters had that effect on people. Amora was a picture of perfection in a flowing tunic dress of icy blue velvet studded with what was probably a million crystals, with her long legs accentuated by snow white tights and fur-lined boots. On her blonde wavy tresses sat a diamond-encrusted platinum crown that sparkled in the moonlight, making her look ethereally beautiful. 

Lorelei was dressed in her customary trousers and tunic, in the deep hunter green velvet and leather that she favoured, for it hugged her voluptuous figure flawlessly and was best for riding her dragon, Morgana. On her riotous red curls, her gleaming gold and emerald-studded crown looked lovely. _She_ looked lovely, Loki realised, wondering what Thor thought of her, the least heinous of his sisters. 

He didn’t have time to find out because Hela spoke, her sibilant voice sending shivers down Loki’s spine. 

“Hello, little brother,” she drawled. “Welcome home. Oh, how we’ve _missed_ you!”

Lorelei got straight to the point: “Who’s this?” 

“Mmm, yes, do tell,” Amora practically purred, giving Thor a heated onceover and then sharing a pointed look with Lorelei. “My, what a handsome thing you are. Why, you’re positively... _delicious_.”

Thor shuddered at Loki’s side, and both of them hesitated to speak; Thor probably because he was recovering from being struck dumb by Loki’s sisters’ beauty, and Loki because he’d been struck dumb by Thor’s reaction to his sisters’ beauty.

Luckily the Queen spoke before the silence could stretch on uneasily. “It appears that Wendell has sent us a contender from the First Kingdom.” 

Loki’s eyes widened. “No!” he exclaimed loudly. “He is not a contender!” 

The Queen narrowed her gaze at him. “He looks like a contender.”

“He’s not!” Loki insisted, his grip on Thor’s arm almost death-like. 

“Well, no matter,” Hela interjected before the Queen could speak. “You can put him with the others.”

Loki’s gulped. “What others? I sent word that I hadn’t found any suitable candidates in the Nine! They were all wholly unworthy!” 

Amora chuckled while Lorelei shot him a pitying look. “Do you think you were the only emissary sent to gather contenders?” Amora asked. She practically cackled with glee at Loki’s undoubtedly stunned look. “Mother sent others.” 

Loki’s head snapped around, his startled gaze colliding with mother’s steely cool one. “Mother?”

“Halvar was sent to the land of the Frost Giants,” she announced imperiously. “And Morgana, to the Troll Kingdom. They have already returned with their contenders: the Frost Giant Princes Helblindi and Byleistr, and the Troll Princes Burly and Bluebell; although, Princess Blabberwort is here as well because she refuses to leave her brothers. The Allied Packs of the Second Kingdom needed no emissary; they are sending their three strongest wolf Alphas; they should arrive two days hence. Morgana has now gone to get the two Ogre Princes of the Far Fifth; they are expected back tomorrow night. Festivities will therefore commence three days hence.” 

Loki stared at his family in stunned silence; when he finally found his voice, it was to speak to Hela. “You...would consider marrying an Ogre or a Troll?” 

Hela shrugged an elegant shoulder. “How utterly offensive of you to judge a book by its cover, brother,” she drawled with a menacing smile. “Regardless of who they are or what they look like, they all... _bleed_.” She grinned past Loki at Thor. “Even your contender.”

“He is not a contender!” Loki shouted, his voice shrill with the fear currently coursing through his veins. 

“Of course he’s a contender, look at him,” Amora proclaimed lewdly. “His arm is the girth of one of my thighs. Truly; well done, brother!” 

“Enough!” the Queen snapped. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, Amora; your thirst is unbecoming of a Princess of the North. Loki, why can he not be a contender?” 

Loki thought fast. “Because... Because... He is already betrothed!” 

He felt Thor startle at his side but he dug his fingers as hard as he could into Thor’s forearm to ensure his silence. 

His mother and sisters frowned as one, but it was the Queen who spoke. “To whom?” 

“To Loki!” Thor declared before Loki could even begin to think of someone else. 

His breath froze in his lungs at Thor’s words, and his wide eyes took in his mother’s absolute shock and his sisters’ utter incredulity. 

Amora was the first to recover. She laughed – or _cackled_ , rather – like this was the funniest news she’d ever heard. “Don’t be ridiculous! Look at him and look at you! Have you enchanted him, brother? I would not have thought you capable of such magic, but you were always a sly one. If so, congratulations; you may’ve finally done something right for a change! Otherwise one such as him would _never_ even associate with a snivelling little weasel like you!” 

As Loki’s entire being cringed at her words, Stormbreaker flew into Thor’s outstretched hand, its song sonorous and electric in the cold night air. Thor brandished the huge axe like the threat it was and, when he spoke, his words were like ice. “Do not insult Loki again,” he snarled with enough menace to give Hela a run for her money. “I will not take kindly to it.” He turned to look at Loki’s mother. “Truly, I have journeyed here to formally ask you for Loki’s hand in marriage, your majesty. I am hoping you will find me worthy of your son.” 

The Queen, who been getting progressively more incensed as Thor spoke, _roared_ : “ _No one is worthy of my son!_ ” 

If either Loki or Thor were weaker men, they would’ve surely fallen to their knees in fear; now, they merely clutched at each other like they were one another’s lifelines. As it was, even Loki’s sisters were visibly taken aback by her vehemence.

“I know your pedigree! Those from the First give their love away without thought or care! It is the recipient who is left heartbroken and lost in the end, while you move on to your next conquest! Your new _adventure!_ What makes you even _think_ that you would be worthy of him?” the Queen asked Thor, daring him on with her every word. 

Thor, Loki’s idiot imbecile of a fake fiancé apparently, who went around petting baby basilisks and so had no care for the sanctity of his own life, replied with pride: “You’re right, your majesty. I see now – better than before – that Loki is the most magnificent jewel in the crown of the Eighth Kingdom. After all, he has, just today, been declared one of the Charming Ones...” 

“What?” A cacophony of voices asked, their tones ranging from incredulous to downright disbelief; it truly did wonders for his self-esteem, Loki thought bitterly. 

“Oh, did you not see the papers?” Thor asked, his own tone saccharine. “The Nine Kingdoms Council decided on it – _unanimously_ , I might add, which rarely ever happens: Loki is now a Prince Charming.” 

“The Emperor’s saggy bollocks!” Amora swore, earning a glare from her mother. “He doesn’t have a charming bone in his body.”

“While that does seem to be a family trait,” Thor drawled sarcastically as Loki groaned inwardly, “thankfully it appears to have skipped Loki. He left with calling cards from over forty suitors, all vying for his hand.” 

Hela, Amora, and Lorelei looked dubious, enraged, and intrigued in that order. The Queen looked impressed above all else. “Forty?”

“Aye. I was the first, of course. It took me but a few seconds,” Thor boasted while Loki proceeded to squirm inside with every word that came out of his mouth. “He charmed everyone at the ball with not only his beauty and brilliance, but also his spirited intelligence, his sparkling wit, his sophisticated manners, and his superb dancing. He’s been declared the new Prince of Dreams.” 

“I don’t believe it,” Amora whispered, horrified, and with a venomous glare in Loki’s direction. 

“Granted, he took that title from me,” Thor declared with smile so wide it even appeared to somewhat dazzle the Queen, “but I am not sorry; it was well-deserved, and I give it up gladly.” Thor turned to look at Loki and, though he’d been hamming it up for the benefit of Loki’s family, now he looked earnest and, when he spoke again, his words were heartfelt. He raised Loki’s hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss to his knuckles. “Loki is... _lovely_ , and I love him more every minute I spend with him.” 

Loki blinked up at Thor, feeling a little bedazzled himself. He sighed softly but, before he could say anything, they were both startled by Amora’s enraged yell. 

“That should’ve been me!” she screamed before glowering at her mother. “You should’ve sent _me_ instead, mother, not him! He’s nothing – no one! He’s pathetic! I should’ve been the one to take the Nine by storm!”

“Shut up, Amora!” Hela snapped. “You’re annoying me with all your whining.” 

“She annoys me all the time,” Lorelei muttered in agreement, “probably because she whines all the time. Huh.” 

Amora glared at them both mutinously but even she was not stupid enough to defy Hela. Their oldest sister smiled snidely as she glanced at Loki’s hand, safe in Thor’s grip. “I commend you, brother,” she said. “Well done, picking the finest-looking contender for yourself, especially since you failed so spectacularly to bring back other contenders from the Nine. Unsurprising, really,” Hela mused with affected nonchalance, “since you fail in everything you do.” 

Loki bristled and did something he’d never done before: he stood up against her, standing up for Thor and, by proxy, himself. “He will _not_ be a contender,” he stated through gritted teeth. 

“He will if you want to marry him,” Hela said smugly. “Those are the rules. It’s true that mother only meant them to apply to us but who knew you would grow a set and snag a suitor of your own?” She looked to Thor, a challenging, crafty gleam in her eyes. “You, First Prince, _will_ be a contender in our tournament, or you will forfeit Loki’s hand.”

 Thor stared back at Hela, wholly unimpressed. “Last I checked, you were not Queen of this Kingdom,” he intoned airily. Some old childhood instinct made Loki quake with fear; no one talked to Hela that way and came away unscathed. He was both terrified for and terribly proud of Thor. “I will defer to the true Queen on this. If her majesty wishes me to compete for Loki’s hand, I will.”

 “No, you will not!” Loki snapped, pushing down his fear.

 “He will,” the Queen declared, the finality of her tone brooking no argument.

 Loki felt as if his blood had turned to ice, freezing in his veins, because he could not fathom how Thor would make it out of his sisters’ trials with his life. He gripped Thor’s hand as his mind raced, whirring through all possible outcomes of his sisters’ tournament; none of them were good.

 In his frantic mental musings, he did not miss the triumphant looks on his sisters’ faces: smug Hela, spiteful Amora, and gleeful Lorelei. His mother was harder to read, as she always was, but her eyes were colder than usual as she stared at Thor and that terrified Loki.

 There was no other way around it; he had three days to the tournament and dawn was already breaking on the first day. He could not risk Thor entering that tournament; he had to get him out of the Eighth and to the safety of the Fourth, or the relative safety of the Seventh, as soon as he possibly could.

 It was time: time to be brave, time to flex his magic and finally allow it free rein, time to escape the Eighth.

 To get them both out would take a miracle, and those were in pretty short supply in Loki’s life, so he wasn’t counting on it.

 If he was really lucky, though, he’d get Thor out unharmed. It would mean sacrificing himself to his sisters’ wrath, but Loki had been there and done that.

 He was pretty sure his mother wouldn’t let them actually kill him.

 Well, mostly sure.

 Fine, he wasn’t very sure at all, but at least Thor would be safe, and that suddenly mattered more to Loki than anything else in his entire wretched life.

 He’d had his three days of freedom, including one magical night at the ball, he’d been declared a Charmed One, and he’d been crowned Prince of Dreams. Most importantly, he’d fallen in love with the sweetest, handsomest, most wonderful idiot in all the Nine.

 He couldn’t be greedy and expect more; his most heartfelt wish had come true after all; hindsight being what it was, he should’ve been more specific when he’d wished it.

 He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Thor that wishes had a way of backfiring against the wish-maker. 

So, he was content with his lot. But he’d be damned if he let his sisters get in the way of _Thor’s_ Happily Ever After.

 

*** * ***


	5. Chapter 5

 

_Previously:_

 

Loki was the proudest he’d ever been in his entire sixteen-year life when he handed over the delicate crystal vial – that held within it a truly priceless glittering purple potion – to one of the greatest Fae kings in all the Nine.

Heimdall looked impressed and, considering all he’d seen over his extraordinary long life, he usually wasn’t impressed by anything. “Three years for this tiny portion,” he mused with a smidgen of awe and a healthy dose of respect. “Your skill and patience has surpassed even _my_ expectations, young Prince. You show all the signs of an emerging archimage.”

 Loki flushed with pleasure; it was a truly excellent compliment, especially coming from Heimdall.

 “I wanted to rise to a challenge I actually had a chance of overcoming,” Loki said, so quietly that Heimdall had to lean in closer. “It was...not easy.”

 “No, indeed,” Heimdall agreed. “No one has succeeded in brewing this potion in centuries. You have done remarkably well, for you will be saving a life.”

 “Will you not tell me who was brave enough to wrestle a basilisk?” Loki asked, probably sounding like an excited child unable to contain his curiosity.

 Heimdall snorted at some private jest that he did not share with Loki. “I have been sworn to secrecy. But they will be very grateful for your help when I tell them.”

Loki’s heart stopped, fear clutching at it in a deathly grip. He forced himself to breathe so he could speak. “No, please! I do not wish for anyone to know. Just take it with my best wishes for their recovery.”

Heimdall watched him shrewdly. “What of your payment?”

“What payment?” Loki asked in surprise, frowning because he could not recall asking for payment when he’d first struck the deal with Heimdall over three years ago; all he’d requested was help to gather ingredients for the finicky spell because the majority could not be found within the borders of his kingdom. Brewing the potion had been its own arduous reward. Then, he remembered. “Oh! A wish!”

Heimdall nodded. “Aye, a boon of your choice. Anything within my power to grant you.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared Loki down. “A great many things are within my power, so think carefully and choose wisely, young Prince.” 

He hadn’t really given his wish much thought since it’d been first promised to him in payment over three years ago. Loki gulped. “Will you please give me some time to think on it?” 

Loki could’ve sworn that Heimdall’s mouth twitched in something that may have resembled amusement. “You may have three days. Shall we meet again here?”

Loki nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course.”

“Very well,” Heimdall said as he handed the crystal vial back to Loki. “Bring this with you then.”

Loki balked at taking it back; it had taken a few years off his life trying to smuggle it out of his secreted rooms in the castle as it was; he had no wish to go through that again. “You can keep it. Why waste even three days when this poor person can finally be cured of the basilisk’s bite?”

Heimdall stared at him, his face giving nothing of his thoughts away. “You would trust me to return even though I have gotten what I came here for? I am Fae; we are not to be so easily trusted.”

If Heimdall never returned, it would be just another in a long line of let-downs in Loki’s life; he was well used to them by now. He scuffed his booted toe in the snow and shrugged.

With a finger to Loki’s chin, Heimdall tipped his downturned head up and declared firmly: “I _will_ return. You may count on it.”

And, three days later, he kept his word. He skipped any pleasantries when he took one look at Loki’s black eye. His jaw clenched but he said nothing about it when he saw the defiant stance and look on Loki’s face.

“You’ve had time to think?” Heimdall asked. 

As much time as possible given that he’d spent an entire day terrified, locked in one of Hela’s ensorcelled trunks. His breath stuttered in his chest as he tried not to recall the foul stench and all-consuming darkness he’d had to endure. His fingers still tingled with phantom pain; they’d bled raw as, in his blind panic, he’d first tried to scratch and fight his way out of the vile trunk, before he’d been able to finally gather his wits and focus long enough to free himself with his magic. 

Healing his hands had taken an age because he hadn’t been able to stop shaking and crying and falling apart at the seams. 

The black eye he’d gotten just that morning, when he dared leave his rooms in search of food, courtesy of Amora ruthlessly shoving him face first into the edge of a door with her magic, and for no reason at all other than the fact that he existed and she hated him.

Their mother was away at their summer Snow Palace on the edge of the sea, so he hadn’t bothered healing himself. His sisters never ventured there because it lacked their creature comforts and probably also because their usual instruments of torture weren’t within easy reach. Loki, on the other hand, loved the remote desolation of the Snow Palace, but he hadn’t been invited along.

He was startled out of his trance-like state by Heimdall speaking. 

“What then would you ask for your one wish?” 

What did it matter, Loki asked himself with a dejected sigh.

Should he wish for escape from his kingdom? The very thought was laughable. His sisters would surely find a way to track him; he’d never be forgiven for leaving when they couldn’t and he’d never be able to stop looking over his shoulder, wondering if he was being watched. 

Or worse. He wasn’t sure how it could be worse, but his sisters were imaginative; they’d find a way. 

He’d contemplated wishing for his mother to really _see_ him again, to show him the affection and kindness she’d shown so freely when he’d been a child. He’d often see glimpses of it if they were both alone, but it wasn’t the same. Now, he had only the briefest recollections of her lovely smile, or her gentle touch, or her soft, sweet kisses. Tears sprung into his eyes unbidden but he blinked them away before even Heimdall could see. But, no; his mother’s love was best left in the past where it could no longer break his heart any more than it had already done.

At last, he did the one thing he hadn’t been able to do over the past three days: he looked deeper into his heart. What did he truly want, just for himself for once? 

Then it came to him. He did want his mother’s love, and he did want his freedom from his sisters, but he also – selfishly – wanted what every other Prince of the Nine got to cavalierly expect as a certainty in their lives.

He wanted a chance at finding his True Love; he wanted his Happily Ever After.

He shut the frivolous thought down almost as fast as it’d formed in his head. He couldn’t have that. He couldn’t even _wish_ for it. For what if the wish made some poor unsuspecting soul fall in love with him against their will? Would that sort of love even count? Would it fulfil his (shameful and weak) need to have someone put him first for a change? Would a love that had such nebulous beginnings even last? With his luck, everything would eventually blow up in his face for some silly loophole of a reason, and just when he least expected it. And if, by some miracle, he was able to find someone who truly loved him, how could he even consider returning that love knowing full well how miserable his family would make them both? 

The whole notion was far too dangerous and Loki was much too smart to fall into a trap like that; no, his heartfelt desire would need to be as fleeting and as flighty as any whimsical wish – made upon a star or into a well or to someone’s fairy godparent – needed to be. 

So, Loki thought and thought and, after a great deal of time during which Heimdall stood, steady and silent and limitlessly patient at his side, Loki voiced the most fervent wish he had the luxury of making:

“I wish...” he started softly, his words carried off by the cold Eighth Kingdom winds almost as soon as he’d said them, so he said them again, this time with more conviction: “I wish to meet my True Love.” 

Heimdall turned to study him in that quiet, unassuming way of his that usually got on Loki’s last nerve. This time, though, Loki struggled not to squirm under his scrutiny, or sob like a baby. 

“Only _meet?_ Are you sure?” Heimdall asked in his usual measured manner.

“I’m never sure about anything anymore,” Loki mumbled to himself even though he nodded to Heimdall.

“Very well,” Heimdall replied. “You realise that, since this wish involves another, that it could happen tomorrow or next year or even ten years from now?”

“I understand.”

“Then... It is done.” 

And, in Heimdall’s amber eyes, Loki saw a fathomless wisdom that he’d never really noticed before. It scared him, but it was already too late; his wish had been granted.

For better or for worse, now, there was no turning back.

  

*** * ***

 

_Presently:_

 

Loki was a snow-mouse.

Well, he certainly exhibited mousey traits as he dashed for the safety of his hiding places whenever he saw his monstrous sisters coming but, right now, he was an _actual_ mouse. 

His stood on his hind legs and nervously twiddled his whiskers with his tiny paws. His two snow-mice friends, Iggy and Myx, who were descended from the long, long, _long_ line of his first murine playmates – the original Iggy and Myx – flanked him on either side as the three of them looked out of a hole in the wall of Thor’s chambers. 

“He’s very handsome,” Myx squeaked softly. “Will you marry him, do you think?” 

“He has to ask Prince Loki first,” Iggy interrupted before Loki could speak. “I do wish he’d ask, though. We’d miss you terribly, your highness, but you’d be all right with him, wouldn’t you?” 

“Not with my sisters around,” Loki peeped. He shook out his fluffy white fur and sighed. “It’s getting late. Go back to the kitchens; I’ll watch over him tonight.” 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Iggy asked. 

“I’ll be fine. My wards say my sisters are abed already and you know how much they like their beauty sleep.” 

Myx harrumphed. “Would that their sleep also make their beauty more than skin deep,” she lamented. “Such foul, wretched creatures! Why, they’re worse than cats and cats are the worst!” 

“And owls,” Iggy contributed. “And everything else that finds us a yummy snack really.” She rubbed her soft warm body against Loki’s in comfort. “Don’t worry, your highness; we’ll keep an eye and an ear out for danger!”

“Thank you, my friends,” Loki said, and they both nuzzled his whiskered cheeks before scurrying off deeper into the walls of the castle. 

Loki remained in the hole for a while longer, watching as Thor silently paced the room; he was obviously unhappy. When Loki couldn’t take it anymore, he ventured out, slipping quietly behind the legs of an armchair, under the edge of a rug, and beneath the bed until he could peek out at Thor from a hidden spot at its foot. 

Thor huffed, his bare feet thudding against the hardwood floors as he walked to the fireplace and stoked the flames higher. He then dropped into a nearby armchair and sighed. 

Loki didn’t blame him; he, too, had been miserable all day. He scurried closer, hiding behind the leg of a table next to Thor’s chair. Poor Thor had been trapped in this room all day, leaving only for dinner with Loki’s family. It’d been a mostly reserved affair, with malicious glares and unforgiving stares bandied back and forth across the table, the horrendous monotony occasionally interspersed with snide and cutting comments. 

Loki had barely eaten, and Thor had looked at the food as if it may’ve been poisoned. He needn’t have worried; that was the first thing Loki always checked. Hela had affected boredom, and she hadn’t given an inkling away at being thwarted in her attempt to kidnap Loki. In fact, he still couldn’t fathom why she’d done it, and that worried him. Amora had been too busy drooling over Thor to pay much attention to anything else, and Lorelei had been both listless and petulant, which she always was whenever she was parted from her dragon. The Queen remained as silent as the grave. 

On the bright side, Loki had been able to convince his mother not to house Thor with the other contenders.

On the dismal, endlessly dark side, Loki had just found out that the other contenders were less housed in accommodations befitting their royal lineage and more imprisoned in bewitched prison cells within Lorelei’s ice maze. 

He supposed that being kept in the maze’s cells was better than being held captive in Hela’s dungeons. That was the reason Thor still remained within the borders of the Eighth for, in all good conscience, Loki could not help him escape and leave the other contenders to the evil plans of his sisters. 

He’d have to try and free them all. Even the Trolls. 

Sometimes he really regretted the fact that he wasn’t as evil everyone thought he was; trying to be good sucked bollocks. 

He poked his head out from behind the table leg and was presented with Thor’s big toe; it was nicely manicured and both sweetly plump and very manly; more importantly, it looked very biteable. So, Loki ventured out and bit it. 

No one said he had to be good _all_ the time. A little mischief now and then was good for the soul, he was sure.

He snickered when Thor yelped and jumped out of his chair, fully intending to flee back to the safety of his hidey hole. But he’d forgotten he was dealing with the reflexes of one of the most skilled hunters of the Nine and Thor quickly caught him by his tail. 

His tiny heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, and he scrambled to gather his magic to him before Thor could snap his neck. But, again, Loki underestimated him, for Thor only cradled his little mouse body in his big warm hand, chuckling as he fell back into his chair. 

“Hello,” he rumbled, his tone kind as he looked down at Loki. 

Loki almost fainted from the shock of staring into Thor’s beautiful blue eyes; they were enormous and positively mesmerising from his tiny perspective. Granted, they were pretty enthralling from his perspective as a man as well, but this felt like Loki was drowning in fathomless blue depths from which he never wanted to resurface. 

He squeaked; he really had it bad, didn’t he? 

“Don’t worry, little one; I have quite forgiven you for biting me. Was I in your way, or are you, like the rest of the inhabitants of this castle, just out for my blood, eh?” Thor whispered, sounding a little lost and forlorn despite the smile on his face as he gently stroked the fur behind one of Loki’s ears. 

Loki sighed in pleasure and Thor huffed out an astonished little laugh. “Can you speak, little mouse? It seems you understand me.” He brought Loki closer for a more careful scrutiny, no longer entrapping him but rather letting him sit on his haunches in his palm. Loki nuzzled his nose in thanks, and Thor blinked in surprise. “You have green eyes,” he said in amazement. “I didn’t think mice came with eyes other than black or red.” He chuckled. “They remind me of Loki’s.” 

In a puff of aquamarine smoke, the mouse vanished and Loki himself appeared, falling into Thor’s lap. He turned back so quickly that he barely had time to magically summon a dressing gown to cover his naked body from Thor’s startled gaze. 

“Loki!” Thor exclaimed in wonder. 

He ran his hands over Loki’s body – from his angular collarbone, to his pointy elbow, to his bony knee, and down to the sharp jut of his ankle. The feel of Thor’s big hands over the thin silk of his robe left Loki deliciously shivery all over and he was sure his blush extended across his entire body. 

“You are a marvel!” Thor cupped Loki’s face between his palms and looked more than a little besotted as he pulled him closer. “I think I would know your eyes anywhere.” When Loki made an attempt to move, Thor stopped him. “No. Stay. Please! I’ve missed you so much today, Loki.” 

Loki stared at him for a quiet moment and then reached out to tuck an errant strand of Thor’s hair behind his ear. “I’ve missed you, too,” he admitted softly, “even though I have never strayed far from your side.” 

“You’ve watched me? As a mouse?” 

Loki nodded. “I can turn into a mouse, a magpie, and a snake. No one knows I can; at least, I hope they don’t. I had to watch you without them knowing. I had to ensure your safety.” 

Thor gently stroked his cheek. “Thank you, my love.” 

Loki, disconcerted at Thor’s new term of endearment, cleared his throat. He felt his cheeks heat as Thor smiled at him and brought his hand to his lips for a smacking kiss. 

“I will win this tournament. I will win your hand. I promise you that.” He paused. “I mean: I will win the chance to ask you for your hand. I’m sorry I pretended that we are more to each other than we truly are, but your family...” 

“Indeed; say no more.” 

“I am well aware that you have yet to even give me leave to court you.” He stroked Loki’s cheek again and even that little touch felt infinitely adoring. He sighed. “Will you give me leave to court you?” 

Loki bit his lip; with every fibre of his being he wanted to say ‘yes’ – he wanted to yell it from the highest ramparts of the castle for all to hear – but he restrained himself. “Not yet,” he said instead, regret in his voice. He knew that if he gave Thor his permission, the big oaf would never leave his side. 

Thor looked crushed but he quickly covered it up with false cheer and a bright smile. “Whenever you’re ready, then,” he said finally. “I’ll be waiting.” 

He’d be waiting in vain forever, Loki thought. “Thor, I...” 

“I will still win for you, though,” Thor proclaimed as if he hadn’t spoken. “If I don’t, I lose all hope of even a chance with you.” 

“No!” Loki argued. “You can’t win! I mean, I have no doubt that you will try – you may even succeed – but then... Hela gets first choice. And the way Amora acts around you, she may actually be mad enough to challenge Hela for you! Even Lorelei looks at you with hungry eyes; although whether it’s for herself or a new treasure for her dragon is a matter of debate.” Loki sighed. “My point is that there is little chance for me. It will end in a bloodbath if the tournament goes ahead and I don’t want you hurt.” 

He suppressed a shiver as he studied his bare toes and Thor hugged him close, warming him more with a soft kiss to his temple. 

“Still so concerned about my wellbeing,” Thor teased. 

 _You’re my True Love; everything about you concerns me_ , Loki thought the words he wished he could say out loud. 

“What would you have us do, Loki?” 

Loki looked at him, a bit surprised by his easy acquiescence. “You would do as I wish?” 

“I will do what it takes to make you happy,” Thor whispered against his skin. “Because I think that, of all the people I have ever met in my life, you deserve it the most.” 

Loki exhaled shakily and willed his eyes not to fill with stupid, useless tears. “Thank you,” he croaked, his throat quite parched. He swallowed hard before speaking. “I found out that the other contenders are being held as prisoners in the ice maze.” 

“Prisoners?” Thor asked in shock. “But they came here of their own accord did they not?” 

Loki huffed. “They were...coerced. Do you truly think that anyone would voluntarily offer to wed my sisters? Yes, they are beautiful as you are _well_ aware...” 

Thor hummed in offhand agreement but then looked at Loki with suspicion. “What do you mean?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean?” 

“Your tone implied... Well, I’m not quite sure what your tone implied but I’m sure I didn’t like it.” 

“It has not escaped my notice that you think my sisters beautiful.” 

“Aye, so they are. That is akin to me thinking that snow is white. What of it?” 

Loki frowned. “I thought you found them attractive. Certainly, you were dumbstruck when you first saw them.” 

“Perhaps for a second. They are beautiful in the most basic sense of the word, but there is not one thing attractive about any of them.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yes. _Oh_ ,” Thor groused, sounding a bit insulted. “Did you really think that I found them enticing?” 

“You don’t?” 

“No! And most assuredly not after they opened their mouths to speak!” Thor growled. He grasped Loki’s face between his palms. “I find _you_ enticing. I look at you and I find it damnably difficult to look away. When _you_ speak, I feel like I can listen to you for hours. And when _you_ look at me, I do not desperately long to bathe just so I can feel clean again!” he snapped with a shudder. 

“Oh Thor, I’m so sorry,” Loki apologised softly, reaching out to soothingly stroke his fingers over the wild waves of Thor’s hair. 

He was horrified that his sisters elicited such a strong response in Thor. People were usually so terrified of them that they agreed with and pandered to all of their vile whims. It was almost nice to have someone with whom he could commiserate. 

Thor sighed and leaned into Loki’s touch and Loki, feeling bold, leaned in and kissed his beard-roughened cheek. He was rewarded with a bright smile that made him feel like he could conquer anything, even his sisters. 

 _Perhaps_ , he thought, a tiny glimmer of hope alighting in his chest, _he could_. 

Under his breath, he whispered a spell to double check the wards protecting Thor’s room. Satisfied that their words would not be heard by unseen ears, he whispered: “We should release the prisoners.” 

Thor looked at him, a flicker of excitement sparking in his eyes. “You have a plan?” 

Loki smirked and tugged gently at Thor’s hair. “Not yet. But let me braid your hair and perhaps we can plot together.” 

“Loki,” Thor teased, “are you suggesting a rebellion?” 

“A really, really quiet one,” Loki answered cheekily. “Where we escape instead of revolt because then there’d be an actual chance of us making it out with our lives and all our body parts intact.” 

Thor laughed softly. “It sounds like the adventure of a lifetime.” 

“So, you’re with me?” 

“Always and forever, my love,” Thor said happily as he kissed the tip of Loki’s nose. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

 

*** * ***

 

The next night, when Loki’s wards told him his sisters were asleep, he snuck into Thor’s room through a network of hidden passageways behind the walls; the exits to both their rooms were being watched closely. 

His sisters’ spies took many forms, sometimes spiders or moths, other times bats or rats or stoats or small birds, and even the occasional cuddly rabbit or pretty cat that had no business being so evil when they looked so fluffy. 

Loki had learned _that_ the hard way. 

He cast a concealing and silencing charm over both of them, and they ventured out, through passages that his sisters never used because they were nowhere near any rooms of importance. It all meant being cramped into some very tight spaces with Thor pressed up against him, but Loki did not complain and, to no one’s surprise, neither did Thor. 

When Iggy and Myx squeaked the all-clear, they exited the passageway and emerged from behind a tapestry near the kitchens. They crept quietly through the kitchens and went down into the cellars, edging along a dank wall until they reached a small window leading outside. 

Climbing out of the window quietly was easier said than done, but they managed. 

“Stables?” Thor whispered. 

“That way,” Loki murmured back, checking around him carefully, and reaching out with his magic just to be sure. They were still alone. “Let’s go.” 

They scuttled alongside the castle walls and outbuildings, moving like dark shadows from one to another until they reached the stables where Mjölnir was being held. 

This was the tricky part – the first of many, he had no doubt – they had to get Thor’s temperamental horse out of the stables without him waking up everyone in the castle. They followed the mice to the window of Mjölnir’s stall, and Loki approached cautiously, speaking quietly to the beast, telling him of their plans. When Mjölnir nodded his understanding, they opened his stall and Thor led him out as quietly as possible. 

They sent Mjölnir off once they hit snow-covered ground that would muffle the sound of his hooves. He would wait for them at the edge of the forest; they would detour to the ice maze to release the prisoners. 

Thor’s first glimpse of the ice maze had his steps faltering. Loki grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“I know it looks imposing,” he murmured, looking up at the high ice walls of the maze – walls that would even tower over giants, “but the mice know this maze like the backs of their paws. We will find our way out.” 

Thor nodded and did not release his hand as they crept towards the maze’s entrance. It was hard to shake the feeling of being watched, but Loki’s mice friends were spying on his sisters. His sisters’ spies, on the other hand, could be anywhere, but he hoped his cloaking magic was good enough to cloud their escape from view and confuse any animal minds from taking too much note of their presence. The most intelligent of his sisters’ spies – Morgana, Lorelei’s pet dragon – was thankfully still away from the castle in the Far Fifth; they had to get everyone out before she was due back in a few hours. 

The first cells they came to held the heirs to the Troll kingdom, all of whom were snoring loudly and asleep on a pile of furs and leathers. Loki was able to break Lorelei’s magic easily and without tripping any of the alarms that would wake her. But, Trolls being Trolls, they made quite the ruckus as they were roused. 

Loki shushed them repeatedly and Thor had to physically sit on the oldest of the three, Prince Burly, with a hand over his mouth. 

“Shut up, you moron!” Thor hissed. “We’re trying to save your bloody lives here!” 

Burly tapped his hand as his siblings quieted. “Well...” Burly began in a booming voice. Thor smacked his hand back over the Troll Prince’s mouth. When he huffed and tapped his hand again, Thor shot him a warning look. “All right, all right. You could’ve just said,” he whispered. Loudly. 

“We did just say,” Thor argued. 

Princess Blabberwort, the middle Troll child, glared at Loki. “Your sisters stole us from our Kingdom! They have some evil plans for my brothers – I know they do! Why should we believe you? Maybe this is all part of their game!” She looked around fearfully. “Are they going to set the dragon on us again?” 

“The dragon has been sent to the Far Fifth,” Loki muttered, grimacing when he caught the youngest Troll Prince Bluebell picking his nose. From her words alone, it was clear that Princess Blabberwort was the one with the most sense; she definitely deserved the Troll Kingdom’s contested crown. “I am not with my sisters,” Loki reassured her. “I am running from them myself. We will free you but you must follow our lead. You know how powerful they are; one misstep and we’re all dead.” 

Prince Bluebell looked like he was about to start bawling. “I don’t want to die! Suck an elf, how can I be King if I’m dead?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you,” Thor muttered. He, too, looked to the Troll Princess. “Are you with us, Blabberwort?” 

They looked at each other and then huddled together, conferring and whispering noisily enough that the mice in the _castle_ probably heard their conversation. 

Loki started to sweat. “Please, for Cinderella’s sake, be quiet and quick about it!” 

“Fine,” Blabberwort snarled finally. “We’ll come with you.” 

Loki nodded and led them out of the cells. “Step where I step and, for the sake of all our lives, don’t touch anything!”

They shuffled through the maze treading as softly as they could, following Iggy and Myx as they scampered off in search of the other prisoners. It didn’t take them long to find the huge cell holding the two Frost Giant Princes; at least _they_ remained quiet when they woke, and sat back to let Loki work his magic on the locks. 

The door to this cell was more complicated to unlock because Frost Giants had some latent magic themselves, unlike the Trolls. Unfortunately, neither Princes Helblindi nor Byleistr were as gifted in the ice magic arts of their people as their youngest sister, Gerdr, and they couldn’t really help him out. Loki was conscious of the time he was taking but he couldn’t rush; one small mistake could cost them everything.

After what seemed like a tiny eternity later, the latch fell, leaving only the alarms still intact. Both Frost Giant Princes nodded gratefully at him as the exited the cell. Everyone continued on quickly through the maze, heading for the back exit, the one that led into the forest. The Frost Giants, who were probably three times the height of the largest Troll, Prince Burly, still walked more quietly together than the smallest Troll, Prince Bluebell, did all by himself.

Loki really wished he’d thought to tranquilise them, but it was too late now. 

He breathed a huge sigh of relief when they reached the end of the maze. He sent the mice ahead again to scan the perimeter, and they quickly returned to say all was clear. He offered to bring them along, but they refused to leave behind their large families, so he thanked them and reluctantly bade them farewell. They scurried off back in the direction of the castle. 

Loki then tapped Helblindi’s knee. “Hel, you think you two could give us a lift?” 

The eldest Frost Giant Prince smirked and nodded. “I’ll take you two,” he said pointing at Loki and Thor. “By’s bigger; he can grab the Trolls.” 

“Thank you, brother,” Byleistr replied dryly, but he gamely picked up all three Trolls anyway. 

The Frost Giants then ran out of the maze and into the forest, their long strides making short work of the distance. Mjölnir joined them as they hurried through the trees, and they made good time. 

When they finally got to the edge of the forest at the other end, the Frost Giants stopped; Helblindi spoke. “What now, Loki?” 

This was the trickiest – and most dangerous – part of their escape. It was a huge distance they had to traverse, from the forest’s edge to the border barrier, even with the Frost Giants hastening their escape. It was also a frozen tundra, with mile upon mile of ice and rock, and a vicious wind that blew across it, since it offered no cover of trees or any sort of shelter where they could hide from sight. 

The Frost Giants, with their icy blue bodies and attire made mostly of light-coloured furs, would probably blend in with the background if they were being watched from overhead, as would Mjölnir, but the rest of them mostly had on dark clothing that would stand out in an instant. 

Loki almost smacked himself in the face at his short-sightedness. He summoned his magic to his fingers and wisps of aquamarine encircled first Thor and himself, turning their dark clothes white. The Trolls marvelled at this, their eyes wide and their jaws dropped open. Loki wiggled his fingers in their direction and, soon, their clothes had also bleached into shades of grey and white. 

Helblindi ruffled his hair affectionately and Loki glared up at him; then he sighed. No more stalling. This path was their safest way out of the Eighth Kingdom, and it was close enough to the border with both the Fourth and the Seventh, so Thor and the Trolls could seek refuge as they travelled back to their own lands. The Frost Giants would journey to The Second, to the Ice Bay, over which their people could descend an ice floe from above and bring them back to their lands in the skies over the Eighth Kingdom. 

Unfortunately, this was also the point in their escape where his sisters were most likely to be alerted to anything amiss; their winged spies were everywhere and they did not sleep. But there was no other recourse. Loki cast warming spells on Thor and the Trolls and, with a nod to the Frost Giants, they took off running. 

The Frost Giants scanned the distance ahead of them, with the Trolls watching their sides; Loki and Thor kept their gazes trained behind them, on the castle in the distance, and the forest from whence they’d just come. Nothing stirred in the still of the night, nothing foul followed them. Still, Loki couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. 

He whispered a spell into the night air, his magic casting protective shields over all of them. It wouldn’t do much against the combined force of his sisters’ powers but it might buy them some time. 

He threw his voice to Mjölnir’s ears and, in the language of the North, he told the mighty beast to escape with Thor if they were caught, to choose to save Thor above anyone else, and to bear him to safety beyond the border barrier. 

As time passed, he grew more anxious and worried; it made him tense and irritable when Thor tried to soothe his frayed nerves. About half of the way to the border, Byleistr started to tire under the weight of the Trolls, and he had to set them down. Thor and Loki took to Mjölnir then to also give Helblindi some respite. They’d all slowed significantly, though, and Loki was close to losing his mind. 

They rode and ran hard, even the Trolls with their bumbling steps. Again, the Frost Giants picked up the Trolls and ran with them, Mjölnir keeping pace with his riders without breaking stride, and again, the Trolls had to be let down. They were getting more and more exhausted as the border drew tantalisingly nearer. 

Loki had the sudden thought that his sisters may have toying with them, wanting them to tire themselves out. It made him struggle for breath, his hands shaking because the magic flowing through his veins was growing frantic and wild. 

When his sisters finally came for them, it was almost a relief. 

Loki called out to his companions, and they all stopped in their tracks. He jumped off Mjölnir and was closely followed by Thor, who looked grimly determined and ready for battle. 

They faced the direction of the castle, but there was nothing in the distance except swirling whorls of snow. 

Loki felt them coming, though; they were getting close. 

The Trolls blubbered hysterically, incoherent in their fear; they’d be powerless against his sisters, and probably the first casualties amongst the rest of them. But maybe they could have a use. Loki left Thor flanked by the two Frost Giant Princes and ran to Blabberwort’s side.

“I don’t think we’ll be much help,” she admitted gruffly, proving herself once again, the smartest Troll of all. 

“You and your brothers should leave,” Loki told her. “We’ll hold off my sisters for as long as we can.” 

“You want something in return,” she deduced shrewdly. 

“I do,” Loki said, and whispered his plan in her ear. 

She gulped and nodded, and went to tell her brothers. Loki hurried back to Thor’s side. 

“I see nothing, Loki,” Thor said. “Should we not just keep moving?” 

“We should,” Loki whispered, turning to face Thor. “ _You_ should.” 

“Wha...?” Before Thor could even get the entire word out, Burly had clubbed him over the head with a massive fist. “What the fairying fuck?” Thor growled, dazed but not struck down. 

Rumpelstiltskin, but he was strong! 

Before Thor could turn on Burly, Loki reached out with a spell to put him to sleep. “I’m sorry, Thor,” he whispered as Thor slumped backwards into Burly’s arms. Between him and Blabberwort, they tossed him over Mjölnir’s back. 

“Careful!” Loki warned as the Trolls strapped him to the saddle as best they could.

“Mjölnir, take him to safety; ride like the wind, my friend,” Loki begged, and Thor’s horse whinnied his agreement, charging off in the direction of the border wall, impossibly gathering speed as he galloped away. 

“You have our thanks, Prince Loki,” Blabberwort called as she urged her brothers to run on ahead. “If you ever need aid in the future, we of the Troll Kingdom will heed your call.” 

Loki nodded and she left, their lumbering gaits slow but motivated now by imminent death if they didn’t get to the border in time. Loki hoped they would all make it for, in the distance, he could see the swirls of snow gathering like a storm, turning from white to grey, sullied by his sisters’ magic. 

The dark cloud was getting closer. 

Massive, wickedly sharp ice blades grew from Helblindi and Byleistr’s hands as they prepared for battle; their ice magic would not pose much of a threat to the Ice Princesses of the Eighth, but their powers would be enough to slow or thwart them, or be a nuisance to them at the very least. 

More importantly, they could protect themselves. Loki attempted to steady his nerves with that knowledge; steadying his magic was a different story. 

“The First Prince will not forgive you for what you just did,” Byleistr told Loki, nonchalant, like he was commenting on the weather. 

“Aye,” his brother agreed. “He will take it as betrayal.” 

Loki shrugged. “At least he will be betrayed and _alive_. Much better than the alternative.” 

“Good point,” Helblindi acknowledged, and then sighed. “There’s a decent chance we will die this night, isn’t there?” 

“There is if you both stay,” Loki conceded. 

“Well, I had nothing better to do today anyway,” Byleistr contributed. “Besides, we would be leaving behind a sister who is smarter than both of us combined.” 

“Not to mention better looking,” Loki quipped. 

Helblindi snorted. “Aye, that too. And she has honed her magical skill where neither of us even bothered. Bad decision in hindsight.” 

“Laziness, more like. Gerdr will be a worthy Queen one day, though,” Loki said. “The only problem is: she will avenge you if you should both fall. She will not let it rest.” 

“Born stubborn, that one,” Byleistr complained. “Still, I’ll take her over _your_ sisters any day, Loki.” 

“So would I, By.” 

Helblindi snorted and that set off their laughter so, when his sisters finally materialised a few metres away from them, the merriment was still present, dissipating to some degree whatever anxiety they’d all felt. In Loki’s case, anyway, it allowed him to focus much more clearly. 

“You didn’t really think you were going to escape, did you, baby brother?” Hela asked, her tone positively _oily_. 

“I had hoped,” Loki taunted her, with more confidence than he felt. 

“Hope?” Hela cackled. “I thought we’d trampled that out of you a long time ago, Loki. Obviously, we’ll have to redouble our efforts.” 

Hela’s attention was caught by movement behind them; she’d seen the escapees and she looked furious. 

“Sisters!” she cried, and so it began. 

She raised her hand to summon her magic, but Loki was ready for it, and so were the Frost Giants. His sisters sent out wave after wave of magic: Hela’s like sooty smoke, Amora’s the colour of ashes, and Lorelei’s like slate. 

The Frost Giant Princes blocked the hurled spells, hexes, and curses, throwing up shields of ice wherever they could. When Hela’s magic flew in the direction of the border, Loki used his magic to shield Thor and the Trolls, moving closer to her and getting out of Amora and Lorelei’s way; he was sure Helblindi and Byleistr could handle them for a while. 

He tried to position himself so he was between Hela and the barrier, so he could take the brunt of Hela’s power, and to allow the others time to get across the border, but it was difficult to both move and focus his magic at the same time. 

Hela was still stronger than him and, soon, she split her focus, hurling magic in his direction, eddies of dark spells that could easily bring him down. Loki was also forced to divide his own focus and shield himself against the onslaught. 

Behind him, Thor, Mjölnir, and the Trolls were close to the border with the Fourth Kingdom; a little further away was where the Seventh Kingdom would appear soon at dawn. Loki was tiring; his split focus was draining him. Thor was so close to safety, though; Loki had to summon the strength to fight Hela from somewhere. The border barrier was the only magic powerful enough to contain his sisters, and getting Thor past it was the only way he would survive. 

One more push of magic; that was all he needed. He thought quickly; if he expended all his strength to shield Thor and the Trolls, and infused a strong enough offensive spell into his casting, it might just generate enough force to propel them through the barrier. He’d take a hit of Hela’s magic himself but that couldn’t be helped. The others would be safe though; _Thor_ would be safe. 

There weren’t any options to weigh, and he didn’t think; he just did it. 

The desperate blast of magic he projected in their direction was so ferocious that it hit Thor, Mjölnir, and the Trolls’ hard enough to catapult them in an arc across the border, sending them hurtling to the ground on the other side. 

In the same instant, before even daring to breathe out a sigh of relief, he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the impact of Hela’s hex.

It never came. 

When he opened one scrunched up eye and then the next, he flinched in shock. His mother stood in front of him, shielding him from Hela’s fury. 

“Mother, this is not your fight!” Lorelei shouted. “Leave now, and remain unharmed.” 

“How is this not my fight?” the Queen sneered. “This is my Kingdom! I am its defender! Of course this is my fight!” 

Hela grinned maniacally, and her teeth suddenly looked like they’d been sharpened to points and her face looked grotesque. Loki blinked and the illusion disappeared. _What new depraved sorcery is this_ , he wondered as his pulse quickened. 

“By all means, stay and fight, mother,” Hela drawled, restraining her magic to speak. “Saves us from having to kill you another day.” 

“Your claim for this Kingdom is against _me!_ ” Queen Frigga called. “Let the Frost Giants go! And let Loki leave; he makes no claim over the Ice Throne!” 

“We don’t give a fairying fuck about the Giants, but Loki?” Amora yelled, “No, mother, not a chance!” 

Hela snarled: “He is _ours._ He _belongs_ to us. We will _never_ let Loki free!” She stared at Loki in a way that he’d only caught glimpses of growing up, her gaze _ravenous_. He shuddered, thoroughly repulsed. “I even tried to bring him back, lest he be corrupted by the lure of the Nine. My mistake was trusting an outsider with the task, but needs must.” 

“Oh, your friend the warlock?” Loki asked, affecting nonchalance; Hela looked taken aback. “He tried to take me; he failed.” 

“ _What?_ ” 

“Not only did he kill three of our people – that we know of – apparently, someone mentioned to him that I was a virgin,” Loki snarled through gritted teeth, his eyes on Amora as the likeliest culprit. “He felt the need to rectify that,” Loki said, struggling to keep his voice steady as he recalled the vile man’s breath on his face. “And we felt the need to detach his head from his body.” 

Both Frigga _and_ Hela had grown visibly incensed as he’d spoken, but while his mother looked to Loki in commiseration, Hela turned her ire on Amora, slapping her viciously. She then grabbed Amora by the throat, lifting her up off the ground while Amora struggled uselessly against her chokehold. Lorelei looked on in fear but she made no move against Hela. “Once this is over, Amora – if I find that your man sullied him because of your envious words, I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you, sister or not!” 

Amora fell to the ground when Hela let her loose; it was only then that Lorelei went to her side. Hela turned to Frigga, her fury escalating. “This is your fault! He should never have left us in the first place! _You_ did that, mother; you gave him a taste of freedom, and he returned to us with a suitor and grand delusions of himself as a mage when we all _know_ he is a mouse!” She shot Loki a knowing look that chilled him to his bones. 

Well, he would never be turning into a mouse ever again, he thought with a shuddery inhale. Behind Hela, Amora and Lorelei were glaring daggers at him 

If he was taken alive this night, his sisters would flay him with their rage; they would bring him to the brink of madness time and again with no respite until he finally succumbed, to insanity, to their will, or to death. 

If those were his options, it was an easy choice to make; better to fight to the death tonight. 

Loki fortified his magic, and braced every shred of courage he could muster as he took the few steps to his mother’s side. “I stand with you, mother.” 

Before Frigga could protest, the Frost Giants flanked them. 

“As do we, my Queen,” Helblindi declared. “We actually have a fighting chance with you at our side.” 

“Aye,” Byleistr agreed. “Let us end this evil once and for all!” 

Frigga studied each of them, her gaze coming to rest on Loki last. “This could end very badly,” she whispered. 

Loki smiled weakly. “It could; it probably will.” 

Her gaze was full of regret. “I’ve never wanted such an end for you, my son.” 

Loki shrugged. “Don’t worry, mother. These are still the Nine Kingdoms; we are still governed by their rule. Evil may have its day but, even if it takes forever, Happy Ever Afters always triumph in the end.” 

Frigga nodded, squaring her shoulders as she faced her daughters and summoned her staff – her favoured conduit for focusing and bolstering her magic – to her hand. 

There was no time to gather his wits as he watched his mother’s renewed burst of magic drive his sisters away from the border; there was only time to switch to offensive manoeuvres. He conjured ice blades and cast them at his sisters, and the Frost Giants copied his strategy, sending a hail of ice shards raining down on them. Though they countered some of the hits, a few spots of bright red blood appeared on Amora’s light-coloured clothing; it was too dark to tell with Hela’s and Lorelei’s clothes, but he could see Lorelei at least wincing in pain. 

In the fray, one of Hela’s flying spears of black ice sliced through the Queen’s arm; she screamed and clutched at her wound which started to bleed profusely. Loki rushed to her side in horror, shielding her from further attack. He was glad to see that though her wound was deep, it wasn’t dangerous; he’d been afraid for a moment that her arm had been severed. He cast a quick spell to staunch the bleeding and they battled on. 

His sisters recoiled from the renewed assault, Lorelei throwing up a thick wall of ice between them, the same impenetrable sort with which she’d made her maze. The Frost Giants took advantage of her ploy and reinforced her ice wall, sending it growing at such speed and thickness that only Frost Giants were capable of, until all three witches were trapped under a giant dome of ice. 

Frigga fortified the outer walls of the dome in an attempt to contain her daughters; Loki added his magic to hers, and soon they had some reprieve to catch their breath. The Frost Giants collapsed onto the snow and Loki once again went to his mother. 

“How did they get so powerful, mother? They were not like this before!” 

“Dark magic, blood sacrifice,” the Queen said, hissing in pain as Loki seared her wound closed with his healing magic. “They’ve been at it for the past year. I think they got their hands on a Book of Spells belonging to Snow White’s wicked step-mother.” 

“She’s rotting in a swamp somewhere in the Seventh; I thought all her belongings were destroyed.” 

“So did we all, but The Crisis taught us otherwise. When the new Evil Queen died, it was discovered that she was a dark disciple of the original one...” 

Loki was shocked; that was not common knowledge. “Rapunzel’s braid! How?” 

“Summoned from beyond the grave. The Evil Queen was taken over a decade ago, bidden from the Tenth Kingdom, somehow. She came across into the Fourth, and was led to the swamps where she apparently took the Book of Spells from the old Queen’s crypt. Then, even after the Crisis was resolved, Wendell’s people could not find it.” 

“And you think they found it?” he asked, nodding to the ice dome that held his sisters. 

“Yes. Unfortunately,” Frigga muttered with a sigh. “Halvar was able to gather evidence from a variety of creatures in the swamps. I think that warlock you spoke of may’ve helped them.” 

“He did appear to know them well. Well, he appeared to hold them in contempt; that only comes from knowing them well. He was a fairly capable magic-wielder himself, the filthy swine.” 

His mother took his hand in hers, her gaze fraught with fear and regret. “Did he...touch you?” 

Loki shook his head. “He didn’t get that far.” 

Frigga closed her eyes and sighed, relieved and obviously thankful. “They must’ve trusted him to an extent. I just wish there was some way we could’ve confided in each other, Loki. If only so you knew that you were not alone against them,” his mother said remorsefully, hesitating before she reached out to stroke his cheek. “I am so sorry, my darling.” 

Loki leaned into her touch, savouring the feel of her hand on his skin after what felt like a century. “We were being watched, mother. It wasn’t safe. They would’ve used it against us.” 

“I should’ve nipped it in the bud a long time ago; I gave import to things beyond the borders of this kingdom when my focus should’ve been within my own castle walls. I will never forgive myself for that.” 

Loki took the hand she used to cradle his cheek and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. “ _I_ forgive you, mother. I’m just so grateful to have you back.” 

She smiled and hugged him and they would’ve kept hugging a good long while if not for a massive boom from inside the dome making them all jump. They held their collective breath but nothing else happened; the ice walls held. 

They all slumped with relief, and Frigga’s expression was grave when she addressed them all. “The Book of Spells that they took outlines curses and hexes beyond the scope of what magic-wielders should ever be able to do. Even I, in my misspent youth, did not seek to nurture that kind of power. They use spells I haven’t seen used since Snow White’s step-mother was still alive; they are beyond evil; this is a malevolence we have not seen for an age. The old Queen was thwarted in her bid to return in another incarnation after the Crisis; she will not be foiled again. I think Hela seeks to be her new conduit.”

Before Loki could comment on that, they were interrupted by another loud boom; this time the ice walls collapsed, and the three witches emerged from the rubble fighting and furiously pushing forward towards the border wall. 

“They must not get to the border barrier,” Frigga called out as the rest of them pushed back against the dark magic. 

In the scuffle that followed, Loki was hit by a burst of Amora’s magic, and the force of it flung him back like his weight was inconsequential. 

Loki struck the ground and slid until he was a few metres from the barrier, his body scraping against the small rocks hidden beneath the snow. _Rumpelstiltskin, that hurts_ , he thought, rubbing his ribs where the spell had hit him. 

He heard a groan behind him and was startled to see Thor waking up and looking around blearily. He practically fell off Mjölnir’s back. 

Loki would’ve run back into the fray just to avoid the imminent conversation with Thor; if only he could get his legs to cooperate. The spell had sunk into his bones, making him writhe in pain even as he tried to heal himself. Behind him, Thor was slowly figuring out what had happened. 

“Loki! Loki, this was not part of the plan!” Thor shouted. 

“It was always part of _my_ plan,” Loki yelled back, staring at the sky instead of Thor; ahead of him he could hear his mother and the Frost Giants continuing to fight. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Loki! Let me back in! I can help you fight!” 

This time Loki did look at him, even though it pained him to do so – emotionally, because this was likely the last time he’d ever see or speak to Thor again; and physically, because the remnants of Amora’s spell still hurt. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he deadpanned. “Did you gain skills in magic when Burly hit you over the head?” 

“Loki!” Thor growled. The sound did shivery things to Loki’s insides. Then again, that could’ve been the spell. 

“Leave, Thor; go back to your kingdom. Live in peace.” 

“Let me back in there right now!” 

“Or what?” 

“I shall be very cross with you.” 

Loki snorted. “Good! Be cross! Be angry! Be _furious!_ Just go do it somewhere else where you’ll be safe! You’re much better off without me!” 

“Loki, let me in!” 

Loki took in a deep steadying breath; his ribs hurt but at least he could move his legs again. He stood shakily, turning fully to the barrier and reinforcing the intention in his heart as he glared defiantly at Thor. “I, Loki, Prince of the Eighth, forbid the entrance of Thor, Prince of the First, into my Kingdom!” The barrier shimmered to life and then subsided again, a sure sign that his will had been heard. “Sorry, Thor.” 

“I may never forgive you for this,” Thor threatened. 

“Good, you shouldn’t. I’ve betrayed you. Remember that when you think of me with fondness in the future, and like will grow into dislike, and you’ll soon forget me.” 

“How can you possibly think that of me?”

 “Because I have to!” Loki yelled, turning away, and at the same time letting loose a spell to protect his mother’s blind side from a hex Lorelei cast at her. 

“If you don’t let me in, I will take Stormbreaker to this barrier! You know my axe can cleave anything!” 

 _That_ made Loki turn back to stare him down. “Oh, and you would risk that? Destroy the only thing keeping my sisters from obliterating the Nine?” 

“Damn it, Loki!” 

Loki ignored him and leapt back into battle. When Helblindi was knocked down by a wayward spell, he rushed to heal him; Byleistr got a little crazed when he saw his brother fall, and he blasted the three witches with so much ice that they were covered from head to toe. 

“Enough!” Hela screeched when she broke free. “You two are getting on my last nerve,” she snarled at the Frost Giant Princes. 

She drew her sisters close and whispered to them; then they began chanting an incantation Loki did not recognise. Their magic shot forth towards the Giants in one combined burst that blew through the shield Loki had thrown up to protect them. Helblindi and Byleistr’s feet became planted to the ground, dark magic taking root as impenetrable ice grew around them from the ground up. Only their heads remained free, but the razor-sharp collar of ice around their necks prevented any movement other than the slightest of indrawn breaths. 

And then the hits kept coming, his sisters driving both Loki and his mother back once again towards the barrier; they were getting too damn close.

 

Amora and Lorelei lashed out at Frigga together, and Loki hurried to shield her. In that moment, he heard Thor yell from behind him: “Loki, look out!” 

Things suddenly happened too fast: in the blink of an eye, he was able to shield his mother but not himself, not in time anyway, and he expected to be hurtled into oblivion with the force of the vortex of magic he’d seen Hela cast at him. 

Unexpectedly, he was hit from behind, not with magic, but bodily tackled to the ground. Hela’s wicked spell went racing past him and he turned, horrified, and watched as time slowed to a standstill. 

No matter how hard he tried to move, no matter how much he wanted to stop it, to intervene, to shield Thor, he wasn’t fast enough to block Hela’s black magic before it hit Thor, square in the chest, its oily black tendrils seeping into his heart as he fell to the ground. 

Loki screamed. 

Hela cackled with glee. 

Lorelei, Amora, and Frigga froze just as Loki was finally able to move. 

He scrambled to Thor’s side, frantic. 

He forced his healing magic into him. He thought he shouted for his mother to help, because she was suddenly there by his side, meshing her healing powers with his, trying to bring Thor back. 

His could hear his sisters’ jibes and maniacal laughter from behind him as if he was submerged under water, drowning. He felt his mother move her hands away; he saw the devastated look on her face before he was blinded by his tears. 

Frigga stood, summoning her magic to shield him against his sisters once more. 

Loki, in more ways than one, had been brought to his knees. 

And Thor... Thor was dead.

 

*** * ***


	6. Chapter 6

 

Thor was _dead_. 

There was no pulse in his veins.

There was no air in his lungs. 

There was no heartbeat in his chest. 

Loki... _wailed_. 

He wept from a place deep within him that had never wept before; the place where he’d kept all the horrors of his young life locked away and hidden from even his own sight. It was _all_ let loose in that moment, his body wracked with sobs as he finally released his past pain; it collided and meshed with his current anguish, his heartbreak, and the loss of his love. 

“Thor...” he whispered brokenly, the sound garbled by his crying. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Please don’t be dead...” 

“Loki...” Frigga murmured, trying to comfort him with one hand even as she pointed her staff at his sisters with the other. 

“No!” he screamed, his throat raw. He pushed her away, and she didn’t fight him. He cupped Thor’s beloved face in his hands and stared into his wide eyes, bluer than ever even in death. A ragged sob burst out of him, his tears spilling from his cheeks onto Thor’s. “I’m sorry I failed you, my love. I’m sorry...that you ever even met me. I should’ve never made that wish! You would still be alive if not for me...” 

Loki stopped breathing for a split second before quickly harnessing a spell he had used only once before. Placing one hand on Thor’s silent heart, he cast his eyes to the starry sky and reached out with his magic. 

“Heimdall,” he murmured. “Thor needs you! Please...wherever you are...please come to him! Please! I give you leave to enter our Kingdom. Please, hurry...”

Loki looked back at Thor and brushed back his hair. “Idiot,” he said fondly through his tears. “Why must you always be the hero?” He stared into Thor’s lifeless eyes, refusing to give up hope. Heimdall would come; he _had_ to. He leaned down and whispered into Thor’s ear: “You are my One True Love. I knew it from the first moment we met and, to the day I die, I will never love another.” He held Thor’s face, stroking his soft beard with his thumbs, and softly, ever so softly...he kissed his already cold lips. He warmed them with his own, kissing Thor with all the love he had in his heart. 

Then, as difficult and heart-wrenching and unbearable as it was to do, he forced himself to let Thor go. 

He rose.

He wiped away his tears and drew in a deep breath. 

He turned to face his sisters. 

He saw his mother instead, clashing with them, dodging spell after spell, her arm bleeding again.

Loki watched their battle with a strange icy detachment. 

He stood still and silent, his rage building from that dark secret place deep within him, sparking like tinder being struck alight, the bellows of his breaths fanning the flames until it grew and erupted like wildfire. 

One by one, his sisters noticed him and stopped what they were doing; his mother – who’d obviously been shielding him with her magic as he’d cried over Thor – was the last to turn to him. 

The moment was strangely frozen, like they were all caught in a spell of his own making cast without him even knowing it. 

He felt cold, like he’d died with Thor. 

The blood that flowed in his veins ran frigid.

Frost formed in his lungs and he exhaled it with every glacial breath. 

His heart felt like it had turned to ice. 

But, beneath the chill of his body, his rage... _burned_. 

He looked to his mother and ignored his sisters; he was suddenly sure that they weren’t going anywhere...unless he wanted them to. 

“Mother,” he started, his voice hard and unforgiving. “Choose between us. From tonight onwards, you can either have your son or your daughters.” He paused to breathe and blinked, watching his mother’s eyes grow wide. “Choose.” 

“Loki... Loki, please! You don’t want to do anything rash!” his mother cried, raising her hand, as if to stay him, to contain him, or to restrain him. He was having none of it.

His sisters laughed. 

“What could he possibly do to us?” Lorelei asked, like the very notion was the funniest jest she’d ever heard. 

“Pathetic snivelling weasel,” Amora spat spitefully. “The only thing you are good at doing is hiding!” 

“...and _hurting_ ,” Hela added, staring at Loki lustily. “You take pain so well, brother. Nobody quite takes it like you do.” 

Frigga looked visibly shaken by Hela’s words but she kept her gaze on Loki. 

He blinked. 

He inhaled. 

“ _CHOOSE!_ ” he roared, his voice exploding from his throat like a dragon woken from its slumber. 

It was an apt analogy, he mused, somewhere in the recesses of his mind for, as soon as his mother made her choice, he was going to _breathe fire_. 

His sisters flinched as one; it was at that moment that they all also realised that they could not move. Watching the shock bloom on their faces stoked the flames of his rage. 

The Queen, stunned at his vehemence and breathing hard, became resolute. “I choose _you_.” 

It was all he needed to hear; his magic thrummed through him, from his mind to his body to his soul; it coalesced, it crescendoed, it _sung_. 

In the next moment, three things happened at once: 

...Loki’s sisters unfroze – because he’d _released_ them – coming to awareness angrier than he’d ever seen them before. Their collective rage was impressive but it was akin to the flame of a candle beside his inferno. They all screamed at him at once – curses, probably; insults, definitely – but he didn’t hear them, their shrill voices merging into one cacophonous uproar as they called upon their magic.

...Loki’s magic was already at his fingertips; it had been simmering there, aching to be let loose. So...he freed it. And, for the first time in his life, his magical essence was allowed to reach its full potential. A lifetime spent growing and honing his skill – patiently and secretly and with none but his books to guide him – coming to fruition so he could finally reap his reward. His magic burst forth, like a tidal wave of searing blue flame, borne of love and hate, fire and ice, life and death, and aimed straight at his sisters’ hearts. They _burned_ as he watched, and his mother screamed. 

...”Loki?” 

Loki froze, and the flames flying from his fingertips dying instantly as he spun around with wide eyes. 

He gasped. “ _Thor?_ ” 

“What the hell just happened?” Thor asked, his voice a deep rumble. He rubbed his chest and groaned in pain. “I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest by Mjölnir.” He looked up at his horse – who must’ve come to his side once he’d fallen – and blinked blearily. “Did my own damn horse kick me in the chest?” 

“Thor!” Loki exclaimed as he forced his legs to move, his voice strangled and his heart beating like a wild drum. He fell to his knees by Thor’s side, sliding in the ice and snow until his was pressed against Thor’s body, warm and whole and _alive_. “ _How...?_ ” 

There was a sudden boom of sound on the other side of the border barrier near Thor and Loki and, when they looked, there Heimdall stood, his staff in his hand and his amber eyes bright in the darkness that surrounded them. 

“I request entrance into the Eighth Kingdom,” he said, looking at Loki. 

“I’ve already granted it to you!” He looked up at Heimdall with tears in his eyes. “How can I ever thank you?” 

Heimdall frowned. “Thank me for what, my Prince?” 

“For bringing Thor back to me,” Loki whispered, looking back at Thor, his tears spilling over onto his cheeks as he ran his hands over Thor’s body and then helped him sit up. 

“Bringing me back?” Thor asked in confusion, reaching out to wrap his arms around Loki and comfort him, smoothing back his hair and shushing him and brushing away his tears. “Where did I go?” 

“You... You... _died_ ,” Loki said with a broken sob. 

Thor’s eyes widened and he exhaled gustily. “ _Fuck_.” 

“Heimdall brought you back,” Loki explained. 

“I did not do that,” Heimdall interjected, drawing Loki’s gaze to him in surprise. “That is quite beyond the scope of my powers; I merely heeded your call.” 

Loki frowned. “I don’t understand...” 

The Queen gasped, her face breaking out into a delighted smile. “You _kissed_ him!” 

Heimdall frowned in confusion at first, but then laughed, astonishing both Loki and Thor for it was a most astonishing sight. “Your wish; of course! So, it was _you_ , my Prince, that save Thor, with the most powerful magic of all.” He knelt by their side, waving his hand over Thor’s chest, banishing any remnants of Hela’s spell. “True Love’s First Kiss,” Heimdall told them. “The only magic capable of breaking even the most harrowing of all spells.” 

Loki gasped softly, looking back at Thor. “Oh,” he said, not knowing what else to say. 

Thor smiled, and that smile quickly blossomed into a full-fledged grin that could’ve lit up the entire night, it was so bright. “True Love?” He pulled him in so close that Loki fell into in his lap. “Am I your True Love, Loki?” 

Loki snorted as he wrapped an arm around Thor’s neck. “That’s the part you latch onto? Not the fact that you died?” 

Thor’s loveable smile grew full of mirth and mischief. “It matters not; I have never felt more alive than I feel in this moment!” He nuzzled Loki’s nose with his own. “Tell me, Loki. Tell me you love me.” 

Loki stared at his beloved face, his beautiful eyes, and his gorgeous smile while, beneath the palm Loki had planted on his chest, a heart capable of immeasurable love and courage beat a strong and steady rhythm. 

“I do,” Loki whispered, his eyes clouded by tears and his voice wobbly with tumultuous emotion. He cupped Thor’s face between both palms. “You are my One True Love,” he declared, repeating the words he’d said when he thought he’d lost Thor forever. “I knew it from the first moment we met. I felt it in my heart and mind and soul...you’re my love, my light, my life. I love you more than anything. And I would be honoured if you would love me back.” 

Thor laughed, and the sound was joyous. As he tightened his hold on Loki, his eyes filled with happy tears; Loki brushed them away with his thumbs. “I do, my love, I love you with all my heart! How could I not? I keep telling you, Loki...you are _wonderful_. I could not be any happier!” He suddenly stopped and frowned. “Although, I’m quite put out that you kissed me – properly and for the first time – and I missed it!” 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Loki asked, possibly a little flirtatiously, and Thor shook his head. 

Loki smirked, and then bit his bottom lip before his smile could get absurdly wide; Thor watched him with his own heated gaze, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips in anticipation. 

They leaned forward together, their lips about to meet when they were – quite rudely, in Loki’s opinion – interrupted. 

“Boys! I’m very happy for you both,” the Queen yelled, “but a little help would be appreciated, Loki!” 

The rest of the world came rushing back into focus as Loki spun around to look. His mother had taken a protective stance in front of Loki, Thor, and Heimdall. His sisters were rising to their feet, recovering: Hela and Amora were singed, but both of them still looked like they could recover their strength; Lorelei, on the other hand, looked ashen and like she would’ve keeled over had there been a breeze blowing. She still looked livid, though; they all did. 

Loki rose to his feet, and so did Thor. He put his hand to Thor’s chest to hold him back. “Please, let me handle this,” Loki begged, keeping his sisters in his periphery. “I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” 

“Loki...”

“ _Please_ , Thor.” 

Thor sighed in resignation. “As you wish, Loki.” 

“Heimdall will protect you.” 

“I will, young Prince,” Thor’s fairy godfather agreed. 

Loki walked towards his sisters, his hands out at his sides, his magic at his fingertips, serpentine swirls of aquamarine ready to reach out and bite and sting at the slightest provocation. 

“You will pay for that, brother!” Hela spat. “You will never be as strong as me!” 

She looked like she wanted to skewer Loki with her glare alone, but he saw how shaky on her feet she was despite her bluster, and it made his magic hum in his veins. 

He’d done that. He brought them to their knees. He’d set them on _fire_ with his _ice_ magic. 

After a lifetime of their relentless torment, vicious taunts, and being forced into isolation and loneliness just to preserve his sanity, he relished the power he finally had over them. 

He _revelled_ in it. 

His magic sung to him once more, wisps of aquamarine deepening to blue, its song dark and fierce and strong. He let it swell as his rage grew again; when he unleashed it this time, his sisters would not rise again. 

“Loki, be careful!” 

Thor’s voice broke through the fiery haze in his mind with alacrity, like a torrent of water drenching a wildfire. When Loki turned to look, Thor smiled encouragingly at him and Loki’s love for him surged instead through his veins, dousing his hatred for his sisters. 

He took a breath, and then another, and realised once again that he did not want to be anything like his sisters. Because if he killed them, like he’d been ready to do just seconds ago, then that’s what would happen; it would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

He wouldn’t be worthy, not of himself and every trial he’d overcome, nor of his Kingdom, his people, his mother, his...Thor. 

He reined in his power and turned to his mother. “What do we do?” 

She smiled at him, and it was both benevolent and proud. “Hela’s bonds – the ones your abductor used on you; they were a clever creation.” She waved her hands and, in the air in front of her, three pairs of manacles and gags appeared, looking similar to Hela’s but much more elaborate; they were covered in runes that were foreign even to him. He darted a questioning look in his mother’s direction, and she smirked. “I made some modifications; now they’re better; stronger. I’ll need your help to bind them though.” 

He glanced towards his sisters just in time to see them consolidate their magic; Amora and Lorelei had even called their wands to their hands, and Hela’s staff materialised out of thin air just as Loki and his mother turned to face them. 

Empowered by their conduits, his sisters shot the combined force of their magic towards him; he propelled the shield magic he’d spent a lifetime perfecting towards them and their magic glanced off it, useless. 

Enraged, they redoubled their efforts, but it was weakening them. Lorelei was already on her knees and Amora looked like she would fall soon. And though Hela’s magic reserves were likely waning at this point, she seemed bolstered by her hatred. 

“Now, Loki!” his mother shouted as her magic burst forth from her hands. 

He instinctively switched to his offensive magic, and it poured out of him, his newly untethered latent power twinning with his mother’s ancient and potent sorcery, until the bonds that she had made hit his sisters, manacles wrapping around their wrists and gags binding their mouths, keeping them from casting any more spells and curses. 

His mother’s magic streaked out like lightning, tightening the bonds until Lorelei screamed and her wand turned to ashes. Loki focused his magic and it too shot forth, parallel to his mother’s, entwining with and empowering her magic with all of his until Amora was driven to her knees and her wand snapped, burning to cinders before it even hit the ground. Hela was weakening but they didn’t quite have her yet – her staff was strong and she could still call forth enough power to break free of their hold. 

“Heimdall!” Loki yelled. “Help!” 

“I cannot interfere unless the Queen allows it!” Heimdall called back. 

“I bloody well allow it, Heimdall, get your arse over here!” Frigga shouted, completely losing her legendary cool. 

A burst of amber magic joined the white and aquamarine onslaught and, what felt like an eternity later, their combined power finally, finally, brought Hela to her knees, her staff exploding as she fell, all their manacles and gags held tightly in place and their magic bound. 

Frigga and Heimdall lowered their staffs. Loki blew out an exhausted breath and doubled over, hands on his knees as he panted. The Ice Queen and the Fae King looked supremely unruffled once more. 

Thor came running up to them. “Rapunzel’s braid, Loki – you did it!” 

Heimdall shot him a look that was wholly unimpressed. “He did have a little help, you know.” 

“Aye,” Thor agreed jovially as he threw his arm across Loki’s shoulders and hugged him close, “but Loki was _magnificent_.” 

Loki smiled into his shoulder and tried to relax the tension in his muscles. It didn’t work, probably because they hadn’t resolved anything with his sisters. He sighed and turned to his mother, but he kept leaning against Thor’s bulk; it felt nice to be supported. 

“Will they be imprisoned, mother?” he asked, wondering what prison in the Nine would be able to hold them. Certainly not Snow White Memorial Prison, after the fiasco that allowed the Evil Queen to break free. 

Heimdall was apparently thinking along the same lines as Loki. “I think we all know what happened the last time we imprisoned someone as evil as these three,” he said, a mite bitterly. “I warned the Council but they insisted on clemency where it was not deserved. Then the Evil Queen escaped, and so began the Crisis of the Nine Kingdoms. I thank you, but I do not wish to go down that path again. A more permanent solution is needed, as I have already discussed with her majesty.” 

“A _permanent_ solution?” Loki asked, hesitant. “I no longer wish to kill them.” 

Thor looked at him, his expression dark. “Fine, you hold them down;  _I’ll_ kill them.” 

Loki rolled his eyes. “Thor...” 

“What, Loki? They really are...the worst.” 

Frigga held up her hand. “No one is killing anybody. Murder is still a crime in the Nine.” 

“It would not be murder, your majesty,” Thor argued, glowering at Loki’s sisters while they glared right back. “It would be justifiable homicide. A mercy killing, if you will: killing them would be a mercy upon us all!” 

Loki couldn’t help but snigger at that; even his mother hid her smile. “Still,” she said, “before they are punished, they need to be judged.” 

Heimdall nodded in agreement. “We must be fair in all things. Evidence to their crimes must be presented at a trial presided over by three ruling monarchs and the Nine Kingdoms Council.” 

Thor’s jaw dropped. “After what we just saw with our own eyes? What more proof of their nefarious deeds do you need?” he demanded. 

“We will soon release Hel and By from the impenetrable ice. Which means that they...” Loki pointed at his sisters, “...didn’t actually kill anyone. I mean, apart from you and you didn’t stay dead.” 

“I hope you’re not regretting kissing me now.”

Loki grinned and kissed his cheek. “Never,” he promised fiercely. “The point is, we’ve got nothing to imprison them for life, or sentence them to death. No matter how we bind them, they will regain their powers over time and all our lives will be in danger.” 

He looked over at Hela and saw her smile behind her ensorcelled gag. She’d move mountains to get her revenge and there’d be no respite for any of them. Knowing her, she’d probably amass even more power while she was rotting in jail.

All the Great Evil Queens had to start somewhere; they must’ve been Evil Princesses at some point in their lives. 

The Queen also saw Hela’s look; her own expression grew grim. “Let’s not waste any time; we will convene a court now.” She looked to the skies. “Halvar!”

The head of the Winged Guards, all of whom had apparently been circling overhead, flew to her feet. “Summon Queen Leaf Fall.” 

“No need,” called a new voice from beyond the border barrier. “I am here, and I have been watching.” 

Frigga waved her hand and the barrier parted like a starry curtain. “Welcome, your majesty.” 

Queen Leaf Fall nodded imperiously at her, and then at Heimdall as she walked towards them. “Thank you, your majesty; greetings, Heimdall.” 

She smiled, and the leaves that always decorated her cheeks grew from her face and over her hair, turning into her crown of cut peridot, its jagged spikes framing her face quite fetchingly; it matched her flowing jade dress and warm, heavy cloak perfectly. 

“The Troll Kingdom’s heirs stumbled into the Seventh at the very first light of dawn and told us of your strife. We heard it coming, though; magic in the air, both foul and fair.” 

She winked at Loki and Thor in greeting before situating herself beside the Snow Queen, who now stood flanked by the Queen of the Elves and one of the Kings of the Fae. 

“Princesses Hela, Amora, and Lorelei of the Eighth Kingdom,” Queen Leaf Fall called, her voice cool and dispassionate as she stared down the gagged and bound women. “I stand before you as representative of the Nine Kingdoms Council where your mother, the Snow Queen, has presented evidence of your crimes.” 

Loki gasped and he and Thor looked at each other in shock. _When had she done that_ , Loki wondered. 

The Snow Queen spoke. “You have been watching me for many a year, daughters. But in your hubris, none of you realised that _I_ have also been watching _you_.” At her daughters’ surprised expressions, she smiled serenely. “I have watched you through the eyes of your own familiars, and I have stolen from them their memories. These are what I presented to the Court of the Nine Kingdoms Council, and these are what will determine your punishment.”

“You have been charged with many crimes, Princesses,” Heimdall then said and, with a wave of his hand, a scroll appeared in the air, the parchment unfurling until it hit the snowy ground, the list of crimes long and spanning many years. “But, it is for these unforgiveable atrocities of the past few months that we sentence you now.” 

With another wave of his hand, the magic scroll morphed into moving memories – undoubtedly seen through the eyes of his sisters’ spies. 

Loki watched in horror as he saw his sisters’ crimes play out in front of them: evidences of torture and of manic fits of fury that left innocent people badly injured or...dead. 

He’d ascribed many evil things to his sisters before, but he’d had no idea they’d become so depraved. Many a time, he’d stumbled across animal bones and carcasses, and he’d had a feeling they were using animals for dark divinations though he’d never witnessed it himself, but there had never been evidence that they’d been killing _people_. 

“I didn’t know,” he whispered as he turned into Thor’s chest, before raising his frantic gaze to Thor’s understanding one. “I had no clue! I swear! I don’t know what I would’ve done had I found them out, but I’d hope that I’d have the courage to tell my mother, or to thwart them somehow...” 

“Loki, you have proved your courage many times today alone,” Thor assured him. “I have no doubt that you would’ve done everything within your power to stop them.” 

“It was not his duty,” the Snow Queen interjected. “It was – and is – _mine_. It took me time to gather the evidence I needed for the Court but it is done now.” She looked at Loki and smiled. “You did do your part, though you did not know it; you took the evidence to the Court; Wilhelm delivered it to them. The Court convened the day after the ball.” 

“Quickest conviction ever,” the Elf Queen confirmed. “The evidence was overwhelming.” 

“What now?” Thor asked. 

“Only the sentencing remains,” Heimdall said, looking at Queen Leaf Fall. 

The Elf Queen’s smile was grim; with a wave of her hand another scroll appeared in the air, one with the seal of the Nine Kingdoms Court. “They have been sentenced to death.” 

A chorus of muffled cries broke out and the rest turned to look impassively at the accused. 

Suddenly, a terrible clamour broke the silence of the otherwise quiet night. The outsiders did not recognise the sound, but Loki and his mother did. As they raised their eyes to the skies, his sisters’ cries turned to muffled shouts of triumph, especially Lorelei, who looked hysterical in her obvious relief. 

She had good reason to hope. 

Her dragon, Morgana, had returned. 

“Brace yourselves for battle,” The Snow Queen warned as Morgana flew down to them. 

The dragon was a magnificent creature; Lorelei had been wholly unworthy of her, Loki had always thought. She was a formidable beast and he was loath to harm her, but they needed to be ready when she turned on them to defend her mistress. He called his magic to him, as did all the magic-wielders; Thor called forth his axe. All of them prepared for a fierce fight. 

Morgana touched down gently, snow on the ground melting when her talon-like claws sank into them. She was a rare moon dragon, her scales glinting like opals, pearlescent and stunning, and her massive wings as white as snow.

She studied them with intelligent eyes that glittered like garnets in the quickening light of dawn, taking in their battle stance before turning to her mistress who was calling to her with bound hands. 

Dragonfire was probably the only thing powerful enough to break his sisters’ ensorcelled bonds, Loki thought dismally. But Morgana hesitated, and Loki... 

Loki took a chance. 

“Morgana,” he called, and the dragon’s giant head swivelled in his direction, her jewel eyes becoming unerringly fixed on him. 

“Loki! What’re you doing?” Thor hissed. 

“Trust me,” Loki said, waving him down when he tried to stop Loki from advancing. “Give me a minute to try and reason with her.” 

Thor looked like he was loath to let him go, but he did. Even his mother looked hesitant, but she nodded encouragingly at him. Loki hadn’t been lying when he’d told Thor that he’d always liked his sister’s ‘pet’; after all, the beast had never eaten him when Lorelei had dropped him in a newly formed section of her ice maze to test how long it would take him to escape. 

They’d even had the occasional conversation. 

He cleared his throat and swallowed his fear. “Morgana, for their many vile crimes, the Nine Kingdoms Court has passed judgement on my sisters.” He held his hand out to her, his gesture placating. “You must not stand in the way of this... _please_.”

From behind her gag, Lorelei’s strangled scream drew Morgana’s eyes to her once again. She beseeched her pet with her frenzied gaze, still holding out her bound hands. 

“Please,” Loki begged. “This is justice for their crimes! You have witnessed them, Morgana; you must have!” 

“I have witnessed...much,” the dragon finally said, her voice a sibilant hiss. She looked back at Loki, at his outstretched arm, and the lack of magic at his fingertips. “If I do not do her bidding,” the dragon asked, as Lorelei’s muffled shouts grew in decibels in the background, “will you bargain for my freedom, highness?” 

“Bargain for your freedom?” Loki asked in confusion. “With whom?” 

“The Queen,” Morgana answered. 

The Snow Queen strode to Loki’s side; she looked as confused as Loki felt. “Morgana, you have been free since the day of your hatching.” 

The dragon drew her long neck back in surprise. “I have not!” she argued. “Do you not see my shackles?” 

Loki and his mother looked at each other, perplexed. “What shackles?” they asked in unison. 

“These,” Morgana hissed in despair, clanging together the giant bejewelled silver anklets around her front legs; she had them on her hind legs as well. “And this,” she continued, pointing to her matching collar. “They trap me here in this Kingdom of Ice when I long to be free! I am a dragon like all others, despite the colour of my scales! I need warmth! I never have that here! It’s so cold,” she choked on a sob, a huge tear sloshing out of her eye and falling to the icy ground, forming a giant puddle. “I’m always so cold.” 

“Morgana,” Frigga entreated. “We are sorry; we did not know.”

“You know now, my Queen.” 

Loki’s mother nodded. “Your freedom was always yours; you should never have been imprisoned here.” 

“She did it; she bound me to their will,” Morgana hissed, one razor talon pointed at Hela. “Then she kept me,” she said, pointing at Lorelei. “She forced me to do her bidding. To take people from the village and bring them here. She promised me their flesh and bones to feast on...” Loki flinched, but Morgana continued, outraged. “I never did! I do not even _eat_ people-flesh; I am a _moon_ dragon! I am pescatarian!”

A very inappropriate laugh burst out of Loki and, even though he slapped his hand over his mouth, his laughter slipped out. 

“Loki, really,” Frigga tutted, even though her own lips twitched. “Morgana, please accept our apologies for the atrocities that you have faced; we did not know of them; we thought you were here of your own accord. If you will allow us, we will try and break your bonds.” 

Morgana nodded and stood still, her neck lowered and her limbs spread. The Snow Queen, the Elf Queen, Heimdall, and Loki all approached her with their magic and they each took a leg. 

“The secret to unlocking the magic in these bonds is to penetrate the shackles and allow your magic to flow into them,” Loki advised. “Root around inside the mechanisms; it’s like following a maze; it requires patience.” 

The rest nodded and, within a few minutes, the swirls of icicle white and aquamarine, bright amber and peridot, had unlocked all four shackles. Then they each took turns on the giant collar at Morgana’s neck, but try as they might, they could not find the path to unlock the mechanism. 

“If I may make a suggestion?” Thor called out when they’d all slumped against various parts of Morgana’s body, mentally exhausted by the seemingly insurmountable task before them. 

“What is it?” Loki shouted down from his spot astride Morgana’s broad neck. 

Thor twirled Stormbreaker in his hand like the mighty magic axe weighed nothing. “If my lady dragon would allow me leave – and trust me with her life, to be honest – I may be able to help.” 

Loki grinned down at him. “You’re a genius!” 

“I have my moments,” Thor bragged with a wink. He then looked Morgana right in the eye which, as it happened, was currently at almost a level with Thor’s head. “May I?” 

Morgana snorted. “I do not even know you.” 

Loki leapt down to Thor’s side. “You know me,” he said, “and I know him.” 

“Who is he?” 

“Prince Thor, of the First Kingdom,” Loki introduced; he felt a blush heat his cheeks as he said the next words. “He is my...True Love.” 

“Oh,” Morgana said in surprise, this time studying Thor with much more interest. She looked back to Loki and winked one giant garnet eye. “Well done, my Prince.” 

Loki chuckled and patted her snout. “I think so; he is a very good person,” he agreed. “And his axe is capable of cutting through anything.” 

“Like my neck?” Morgana drawled. 

“We shall – all the rest of us – endeavour to make sure that does not happen,” Loki assured her. “Even if you are injured – we have some of the best healers in all the Nine right here to help you.” 

“What if it does not work?” she asked worriedly. 

“Then we shall keep trying with our magic.” 

“And if _that_ does not work?” 

“You will have your freedom anyway,” Loki’s mother guaranteed. “If we learn of some new magic to free you from your collar, we will try again.” 

“I...will be free?” Morgana asked warily. “To go wherever I will?” They all nodded, and Morgana stamped her feet in excitement; it shook the ground beneath their feet. “I can be _warm_ again,” the dragon hissed wondrously. Then she blinked, her gaze set with renewed determination. “Use the axe,” she urged Thor. “I want to be rid of this foul thing if I can.” 

They all stepped back as Thor came forward. He studied the problem from multiple angles on the ground before climbing onto Morgana’s back. “It’s important that you stay as still as possible, my lady dragon.” 

“Easier said than done,” Morgana groused. 

“If you will trust the rest of us?” Loki asked. “We can hold you down with our magic.” 

Morgana nodded somewhat reluctantly and Loki and the others snared her securely to the frozen ground. He shouted up at Thor once he was sure she was as immobile as they could get her, and with one, two, and three mighty swings of Thor’s axe, the collar at Morgana’s throat broke into two, the pieces burning to charcoal as they fell to the ground, and the dragon finally free. 

The rest of the magic-wielders released Morgana from the bonds of their magic as Thor jumped down from her back. Morgana shook herself while the people around her gave her a wide berth, and she released a fiery bellow straight up into the sky. 

When she’d vented her ire, she turned to them, tears filling her eyes once more. “Thank you all,” she said in earnest. “I had never thought to be free.” With a last look at the three Princesses who had made her life just as miserable as the rest of them, and a lingering glance at Lorelei, who looked both furious and betrayed, Morgana turned to the rest of them. “I brought the Ogre Princes in my saddlebags; they are in an enchanted sleep. I shall return them to the far Fifth now.” 

“Excellent, thank you,” Frigga said. “We wish you well, Morgana.” 

“Wait!” Loki stopped her before she could even gather her wings. “My sisters bound the two Frost Giant Princes in impenetrable ice. Dragonfire is the easiest way to break it. Will you please release them, Morgana?” 

Morgana nodded and padded around them to where the Frost Giants were held, unconscious now, in what was sure to be a frozen death if they didn’t break them free by the end of day. She drew in a lungful of cold air and they saw her throat and belly redden with the heat of the fire building within. 

The dragon exhaled and, her fire, banked and controlled to the best of her ability, rushed from her maw; the impenetrable ice melted instantly when her fire hit it and, soon, the Frost Giant Princes fell to the snow. 

Heimdall unfolded the gossamer wings at his back and flew to their side, his amber magic washing over them as he checked for serious injury. “They are well, and should awaken shortly,” he said as he returned. “Thank you, Morgana.” 

The dragon nodded, and looked like she wanted to say something. She looked back at the Princesses for a long while before looking back at the Snow Queen. 

“What will their punishment be?” 

“They have been sentenced to death.” 

“How?” 

“By my hand,” Queen Frigga said icily. 

“Mother, no!” Loki exclaimed, rushing to her side. “You...you cannot; it will change you!” 

She smiled at him, soft and resigned, and cupped his cheek. “They are citizens of the Eighth, so their punishment must be doled out by one of our Kingdom; that is the law. And I will not leave you with that burden, Loki. Better for me to take it unto myself.” 

“We’ll do it together,” Loki suggested, loath to carry out the sentence himself but also unwilling to let his mother do it. 

“No, Loki...” his mother began. 

She was interrupted by an eardrum-shattering bellow and a blast of heat so intense that they were all blown to the ground; even their clothes were singed. 

When they rose, one by one, Thor reaching for and gripping Loki’s wrist in an ironclad hold as he checked him for injury, they all looked at Morgana in shock. 

She shrugged and swung her huge head in the direction of the three Princesses. 

Or rather, what remained of the three Princesses. 

They’d been scorched from the force of Morgana’s fire, blackened beyond recognition; only the barest outline of their forms remained, still kneeling in the otherwise pristine snow. Morgana exhaled gently and their charred remains turned to ashes, falling like dust to the ground. 

All eyes turned to Morgana in sheer shock. 

“What?” she asked, shrugging one massive shoulder delicately. “I am of the Eighth Kingdom still, am I not? And you were taking too long to decide. _I_ , for one, will savour this memory. And now I can leave and live in peace, knowing they will never chase after me.” 

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. Then Thor snorted. It set Loki off, and soon everyone was laughing in relieved elation; glad to finally be rid of the evil that had plagued the Eighth Kingdom for far too long. 

“Thank you, Morgana,” Queen Frigga said when she’d quite recovered. “We owe you much.” 

“I have my freedom, thanks to you all,” the dragon said. “We’re even.” She winked at Loki and Thor. “Come visit me sometime, highness; bring your young Prince and his handsome steed with you – they look like they’d like a bit of sport and there is plenty of space to run. There is also game galore in the seas of the Far Fifth!” 

“We will visit,” Loki promised, snickering when Morgana batted her giant eyes in Mjolnir’s direction. Thor’s horse whinnied, puffing himself up and standing even taller. 

“We’ll come there on our honeymoon!” Thor declared loftily, wincing when the Snow Queen glared at him. “Er...it might be a while.” 

Morgana laughed, the sound bright and free. “You will all always be welcome in my new home!” She spread her white wings and flapped them, causing the snow on the ground to gust and swirl like a small blizzard. “Farewell, one and all!” 

They called out their goodbyes as she took off into the sky. From behind them, the Frost Giant Princes were blearily waking up. 

“Was that an ice dragon?” Byleistr asked, blinking in confusion. 

Thor’s eyes goggled. “There are _ice_ dragons?” 

“Plenty,” Helblindi said, “though none as big as that one.” 

Thor turned to Loki, looking as excited as a child with the prospect of a new toy. “Loki, you must take me to the land of the Frost Giants.” 

Loki looked up at him, besotted beyond belief and not giving a fairying fuck. “Do you want that more or less than you want our first kiss?” 

Thor grinned and grabbed Loki to him, hugging him tightly before grasping Loki’s face between his hands. “For as long as we both shall live, I will never want anything more than your kisses, my love.” 

Thor leaned down and Loki leaned up until their lips were a fraction of an inch apart. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Loki whispered. 

“Ask you what?” Thor whispered back, looking and sounding entranced. 

“For permission. You always do,” Loki said coyly. Thor bit his bottom lip – _I want to do that_ , Loki thought – but he couldn’t hide his smile. 

“Loki?” 

“Mmm?” 

“May I kiss you?” 

“Yes,” Loki breathed into his mouth before he’d even finished asking and then they were kissing and it was _glorious_. 

Loki had never before been kissed. But even if he had been kissed before, he would’ve staked his crown on the fact that no kiss could’ve ever felt like this. From the second Thor’s mouth settled over his, his body was suffused with warmth, from the press of their lips all the way to his fingertips. He felt the shells of his ears warm; his scalp prickled, and his toes tingled; his heart sped up and his pulse thrummed. 

There was a quiet snick as they parted ways for a split second to inhale and look at each other and press in close again, bodies flush, cheeks flushed, mouths parted in wonder, both breathing in as one before they kissed again. 

The tip of Thor’s tongue swiped across the seam of Loki’s lips in a feather-light caress, and Loki opened to him, reaching out with his own tongue and gently licking across Thor’s. It was soft, sweet, unhurried, both hesitant and sure all at once. As Loki buried his hands in Thor’s hair and sighed, Thor groaned and his tongue swept into Loki’s mouth, plundering, demanding his total surrender. Loki yielded with his whole heart, melting into Thor’s hold as he was crushed to his big chest, Thor’s arms around his waist and back like a vice. 

They kissed as if their lives depended on it, desperate and longing, and nothing like first kisses perhaps ought to be. Loki recalled the hollow emptiness of what losing Thor had felt like and he gripped him tighter, moaning when Thor mirrored his hold, just as eager, and just as yearning. 

Loki could’ve kissed him forever. 

But then he heard someone clear their throat. Loudly and persistently, like maybe they’d been doing it a long time. Thor had apparently heard it too, because he reluctantly pulled back, his eyes fixed on Loki’s as his hands came up to cup Loki’s face. 

“I see now how your kiss brought me back to life,” Thor whispered huskily; his lips were swollen, and very pink and glistening with moisture. The way Thor stared at his mouth made Loki feel like his mouth looked just as thoroughly ravaged. Thor leaned in again, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from Loki’s. “You kiss like a dream.” 

Loki blushed and pressed in the last little distance, kissing Thor soundly before they were again interrupted by a frustrated huff from behind them. 

It was probably his mother but, when he turned to check, Heimdall looked just as fed up with them. The Frost Giant Princes and the Elf Queen all looked thoroughly amused. 

Queen Leaf Fall looked at Loki and Thor and how intertwined they were and smiled indulgently. “You are both welcome in _my_ Kingdom anytime as well; the Seventh hosts the very best of honeymoon parties,” she said, laughing when Loki’s mother huffed. “I will notify the Court that the sentence has been carried out, Frigga.” 

“My thanks, Leaf Fall,” the Snow Queen acknowledged gratefully. “And my gratitude to you as well, Heimdall.” 

Queen Leaf Fall and Heimdall both nodded, before the Elf Queen unfurled her beautiful large wings; she took to the air and hovered as she waved at them one last time; then she quickly flew off in the direction of the Seventh Kingdom before it could disappear once more as the sun began its rise over the horizon. 

As Loki watched her fly past the shimmery barrier, he was struck by a sudden thought. “Thor, how did you get through the barrier?” Thor looked confused. “When you pushed me out of the way of Hela’s spell and got hit by it yourself – how did you get past the barrier? You can’t have cut through it with your axe, it would’ve brought the entire barrier down.” 

Thor looked even more perplexed. “I don’t know, Loki. I confess, I didn’t even think about it; I just wanted to get to you.” 

“Oh,” Loki mused, looking to his mother quizzically. “Is there another way through the barrier, mother? I had expressly forbidden his entry into our Kingdom.” 

Frigga hummed thoughtfully; it was almost as if she was struggling for a response. “I couldn’t possibly say. Heimdall?” 

When Loki looked at Heimdall, he had the same placid expression he always did but his eyes told a different story; it was almost as if he was thinking fast. 

“True Love!” Heimdall blurted; then he took a cleared his throat. “True Love,” he repeated, much more serenely. 

Frigga smiled. “Of course, the barrier now recognises you as Loki’s True Love,” she told Thor. “You are one of this Kingdom, now, so you may enter and leave as you please.” 

Loki laughed delightedly, and so did Thor, who took the few steps to the border barrier and then stuck his hand through it. In and out and in and out, making the magic shimmer and dance at his touch. He looked at Loki, thoroughly enchanted by it. “It’s so pretty!” 

Heimdall sighed. “Being your fairy godfather is the bane of my existence.” 

“You love it, Heimdall! You once told me yourself that all your other charges were boring.” Thor said, grinning unrepentantly as he stalked back to Loki and hugged him, lifting him up off the ground in his enthusiasm. 

“Oh, in all the excitement, I forgot to tell you, young Prince,” he said to Loki. “Your coachman; he lives.” 

“ _What?_ ” Both Loki and Thor asked in shocked unison; Frigga looked just as surprised. 

“He was gravely injured when I arrived,” Heimdall told them. “He’d lost consciousness, and a lot of blood, but his heartbeat was still detectable, though very weak. I sped him to healers in Kissing Town. It was touch and go, but he lives still. You will find him there.” 

Loki collapsed against Thor in his relief. “Thank you, Heimdall!” 

“You’re welcome, Loki,” the Fae King said. 

“We must go to Wilhelm, Thor,” Loki said, anxious in his relief, and in a hurry to check in on his old friend. 

“We will,” Thor assured him. 

“Will you not...?” his mother started and then stopped, biting her lip and shaking her head. “No, you’re right – go to Wilhelm. He will be glad to see you safe, I’m sure.” 

Loki turned to her as Thor retreated to Mjölnir’s side. “What is it, mother?” 

“I wondered if you would not return to the castle,” she said, sounding unsure of herself in a way she never was usually. 

Loki shuddered involuntarily. “I’d rather not return there at all,” he whispered. 

His mother nodded in understanding. “I don’t blame you. Truth be told, I’d rather never return there myself.”

“So why not destroy it?” Byleistr suggested. 

Helblindi agreed. “Raze it to the ground; let the foul stench of their dark deeds die with them.” He looked down at the Queen and Loki in turn. “I will pledge the help of the Frost Giants in rebuilding the castle. It will not take us long.” 

“Aye, it is the least we can do in return for saving our lives,” Byleistr added. 

“I, too, will help,” Heimdall offered. 

Loki looked at his mother. “It’s not a bad idea. We need time to get everyone out: from the servants to the smallest creatures that live within its walls.” 

“Very well,” Frigga declared. “There are other things in the castle as well; things of good magic and of memories that do not deserve to die.” 

“I’ll return soon after we see Wilhelm and bring him home if he’s able,” Loki promised. “I’ll help you retrieve what needs to saved; we’ll store it in the Snow Palace. You should probably stay there, mother.” 

The Queen nodded, holding out her hand to Loki. He didn’t hesitate to take it, raising it to his lips to press a warm kiss on her knuckles. Tears pricked his eyes and welled in hers. 

“You _will_ return, though?” she asked softly, sounding stricken, her grip on him tight. “You have found your love now; your heart may wish to stay by his side.” 

Loki looked at Thor, standing some distance away, speaking in quiet tones to Mjölnir. “Does that mean that you think _he_ will not stay by _my_ side?” 

His mother balked. “Not at all! He is your love, as you are his! Your places are by each other’s sides!” 

“Then we will return together,” Loki said, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. “He’s very obliging, you know, especially where I’m concerned.” 

“I had noticed,” Frigga said with a smirk. “Besides, he saved your life. I owe him a debt that I can never repay.” 

Loki swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat; they’d gotten so lucky; he’d almost lost Thor and, if he had, who knows how the night would’ve ended? “Will you be alright by yourself, mother?” 

“Helblindi and Byleistr are here, as is Heimdall; I shall be fine.”

“Worry not, Loki; we will not leave the Queen’s side,” Helblindi promised. “Our sister will be waiting for word from us; in fact, she must be losing her mind with worry. With the Queen’s permission, we will send Halvar to her. I wish to get started on breaking apart those witches’ vile things as soon as we can.” 

“Be careful, though, Hel,” Loki warned. “Not all their dark magic will have died with them. Either mother or Heimdall must be with you to counter any foul spells.” 

“Go, Loki,” Byleistr urged. “Your Prince keeps looking over here like he cannot wait to steal you from us and have his way with you.” The younger Frost Giant Prince sniggered. “Probably several times and in several different positions!” Frigga shocked him with a bolt of her magic; he squealed and laughed, and even Heimdall smiled widely. “My Queen, if you think your son will return to you chaste and with his innocence intact, then you are very naïve indeed.” 

“Ignorance is bliss, Byleistr,” Loki’s mother retorted with a huff, “and I intend to stay ignorant about these things for as long as I can.” She tossed Thor a dark look that had him blinking in confusion and then looking to Mjölnir for guidance. Loki snorted when Thor’s horse neighed in his face. 

Loki’s smile grew and he sighed as Thor waved to him hesitantly. “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, I’m so stupidly in love with him.” 

“Yes, we can all see that,” Helblindi drawled. “Go now so we don’t have to see it any longer.” 

Loki laughed and raised his hand to shake the Frost Giants’ fingers in farewell, and he bowed to the Fae King. Lastly, he turned to his mother, suddenly overwhelmingly unsure of his welcome. She opened her arms to his and he hugged her tight for the first time in his adult life. 

“I do love you, Loki...so very much! And I am so, _so_ proud of you,” she whispered against his ear before she kissed his cheeks. “I’m sorry I could never say the words, my son, for fear of what your sisters might do to you if they knew. But never doubt that I have always felt them in my heart.” 

“I love you, too, mother,” Loki choked out, “and I am so happy to have you back.” 

Frigga beamed at him and then looked over her shoulder at Thor, beckoning him closer with a crook of her finger. He almost skidded on the ice in his haste to hurry over. She stared at him with one elegant eyebrow, and looked decidedly unimpressed. Loki smothered his smile with his hand as Thor shot her a sheepish smile. 

“I am entrusting my son to your care,” she declared haughtily. 

“Very wise, your majesty,” Thor commended, earning a glare from her in return. “I mean...thank you?” 

“Loki has never left this kingdom save for his recent journey to the Fourth.” 

“I’m aware.” 

“Danger lurks everywhere in the Nine.” 

“Believe me, I know; I stumble across it everywhere I go,” Thor jested. Loki, Helblindi and Byleistr groaned, and Heimdall sighed long-sufferingly; Thor quickly backtracked. “I mean: I shall be ever vigilant. No harm shall befall Loki.” 

The Queen rolled her eyes and looked to Loki instead. “Rapunzel’s braid! Loki, look after yourself _and_ this big oaf! Queen Cinderella will never let me hear the end of it if anything happened to him.” 

“Yes, mother; as you wish,” Loki said, pressing his lips together to stop from laughing out loud; his Frost Giant friends showed no such restraint. 

“You really must bring him to our lands in the skies, Loki; and soon,” Helblindi declared. “What fun we will have!” 

“Mostly at his expense,” Byleistr added cheekily. “But he seems a good sort!” 

“He is, and I will,” Loki promised as Thor chuckled and whistled for his horse. 

They mounted Mjölnir and Loki smiled and blew his mother a kiss – a favourite act of his from his childhood. She smiled radiantly and returned the favour. 

“Farewell, both of you,” she called, and Heimdall and the Frost Giant Princes followed suit. 

“We’ll be back soon,” Loki promised and Thor echoed it. 

“Ready?” Thor asked, tightening his hold on Loki. 

“Ready,” Loki replied. 

Then, with a triumphant whinny, Mjölnir kicked up his heels and they took off towards the barrier, which parted like a starry curtain, letting those who harboured no ill will towards the Nine leave the Eighth with ease. 

And Loki _was_ ready: ready for whatever lay ahead, for renewed beginnings, for adventures galore, and the promise of a love that would last a lifetime. 

With Thor by his side he was ready for anything, and he couldn’t wait to begin their Happily Ever After together.

 

*** * ***

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

The ride back through the Fourth Kingdom was everything their journey to the Eighth hadn’t been. No one’s life was on the line and no one was riding to their imminent doom; evil had been vanquished, good had triumphed, and _Loki was happy_. 

It had been a slow transition. After their amazing, smoking-hot first kiss back in the Eighth, Loki had been a little quiet. Thor couldn’t blame him; he had a lot to process, so he let him have his space. Or as much space as he could give Loki considering they both rode atop Mjölnir, Loki’s back pressed snug to Thor’s chest. 

If he’d had a choice, if it’d been anyone else but Loki, if it hadn’t been this important and life-changing – and if they hadn’t just witnessed more than half of Loki’s family die for their crimes – Thor would’ve tumbled Loki into the nearest plush grassy clearing for a diverting little romp punctuated by lots more hot kisses. 

As it was, he knew he had to tread carefully. A lot had happened in just the last few hours: they’d escaped the clutches of the three most evil witches Thor had ever had the misfortune to meet; Loki’s life had been threatened; Thor had apparently died and then been brought back to life by the power of True Love; then he’d met a rare and wondrous moon dragon (he’d been searching for one for years!), and _then_ he’d probably pissed off Loki’s mother – and his future mother-in-law if everything went well – forever by stealing away her beloved son so he could have his wicked way with him. 

So, he was feeling a little overwhelmed. 

He usually responded to overwhelming situations in two ways: fight or flight. He’d been taken out of the fight this time – by Loki, no less, and rightly so considering who they’d been up against – and it made him feel anxious and restless and altogether useless. It should’ve sent him fleeing for the hills. It _would’ve_ sent him running if he’d been running away from anyone other than Loki. 

His love for Loki calmed him. Oh, it sang in his blood like war-song and set his heart pounding and his blood pulsing and his mind awhirl, but it still somehow soothed him. It was the first time in his life that he’d encountered such a prodigious emotion that he wanted to embrace with an open heart and mind rather than push away with all his might. 

Loki chose that moment to lean his head back, rubbing his temple against Thor’s bristled cheek. When he pulled away slightly to look at Thor, his gaze was so fond that Thor couldn’t resist clasping the nape of his neck to hold him steady while he peppered his face with kisses. Loki chuckled softly and Thor kissed the pretty sound from his mouth, both of them sighing before reluctantly parting again, jostled by Mjölnir’s fast pace. 

Loki was still smiling, though, cheeks flushed and beautiful as ever, as he relaxed against him, loose-limbed in a way he hadn’t been before, as if he was supremely comfortable and content in Thor’s space. Thor wondered if he would be the same way in bed, replete and at peace as he draped himself over Thor’s body. Thor’s pulse raced and his blood thrummed with want at the thought; he couldn’t wait to find out. 

So much for space.

 

*** * ***

 

They stopped first at the inn where they’d spent that horrible night when Loki had been stolen away from him, because Loki had insisted on checking in on the innkeepers and compensating the family for all they’d lost in the fire.

As a token of their gratitude, the innkeepers had insisted on feeding them a hearty breakfast. They accepted, because they were famished and Thor could never say no to a fine cup of strong coffee. Loki, too, ate his fill, looking embarrassed and pleased in equal measure as the innkeeper’s wife fussed over him; she’d been thrilled to learn that she was hosting the elusive Eighth Prince. 

Loki didn’t dawdle, though; he was focussed on getting to his friend. Still, Thor made the time to kiss him again, pressed up against Mjölnir’s warm flank, when they’d gone to retrieve the horse from the makeshift stables. 

Loki returned his kisses with what felt like his entire being, arms wrapped tight around Thor’s neck, body pressed close, skin warm and flushed as he kissed Thor with every bit of passion and love that Thor felt coursing through his own body. 

When they finally parted – to the sound of childish giggling from the two stable boys Thor had met the night of the fire – Loki chuckled and pushed him away. Thor didn’t budge, and Loki rolled his eyes affectionately. 

“Time enough for that later,” he said, his tone playful. 

“Promise?” 

Loki’s gaze, when he looked up at Thor through his lashes, was heated. “I promise.” 

Thor’s pulse spiked as Loki bit his bottom lip and smiled up at him, but the moment was broken when Mjölnir turned and snuffled his nose into the crook of Loki’s neck. Loki laughed, nuzzling Mjölnir’s cheek and cooing to him while turning his back to Thor. 

Thor crowded him up against his horse and kissed Loki’s neck, smiling in triumph when Loki just let him, baring his neck with a contented sigh. The skin there was warm and soft, fair from hardly ever seeing the sun, and unmarred, and Thor wanted to bite and suck at it until it was mottled with the mark of his mouth, and the evidence of his desire. His cock stirred with interest at the mere thought of it, but it was going to be a long day before he could get Loki where he wanted him: in a big soft bed, naked and willing and ready for Thor to show him pleasure the likes of which he’d never received before. 

And, if it obliterated the memory of everyone he’d lain with before Thor...well, that would be a welcome bonus.

“We should go,” Thor said suddenly, gruffly, wanting nothing more than to check on Wilhelm quickly and then begin the rest of their lives together. 

“That is what I’ve been trying to do,” Loki drawled. “ _Someone_ kept distracting me.” 

“Aye,” Thor agreed gamely. “Mjölnir never knows when to stop.” Thor’s horse whinnied in his face as Loki laughed. “Now is not the time, Mjölnir; we must be off to Kissing Town.” 

As they rode on, Loki was once again relaxed enough to practically melt into Thor’s chest and press the occasional lingering kiss to his bearded cheek. Thor had a glimpse into their future journeys together and hoped they never rode separate horses again. Or that they rode together in a carriage. 

One with very plush and comfortable seats. 

For sitting. 

And for anything else that might take their fancy. 

“I’ve read all about Kissing Town,” Loki told him as they drew near the town’s borders and slowed their pace. “Is it just as incredible as they say in the stories?” 

“I remember going there with my grandmother when I was a boy,” Thor told him. “It was exciting, yes, but I didn’t really appreciate all that romantic stuff as a child.” 

“And as an adult?” Loki asked slyly. 

“I have avoided it as much as possible.” 

“Why?” Loki said, looking at him in genuine surprise. 

“You know how those of the First can be: they are far too infatuated with the idea of love and falling in love. So, people expect that from me when they see me coming. I’ve had my fair share of fun, don’t get me wrong, but there’s never been anything tangible; there’s been no one special before you. But people see me and think me another vapid Prince Charming with no personality to speak of, and no feelings of my own that could be hurt; I hated it.” 

Loki twisted around to stare at him before cupping his face and kissing him, slow and sweet. He smiled when he pulled back; Thor was sure he looked just like he felt: more than a little dazed. 

“Then we will enjoy it together, for the first time.” Loki faced forward then, but he pressed his cheek against Thor’s. “And if I have ever hurt your feelings,” he said softly, “and I probably have...then, I’m truly sorry. I do not think of you as an empty-headed Charming One.” 

“You did at first,” Thor said, teasing. 

Loki shot him an accusatory look. “You acted it at first.” Then he heaved a big sigh. “Besides, I was just trying to protect myself.” 

“From what?”

“From you, “Loki said defensively, “and all your... _you-ness!_ ” 

“My... _me-ness?_ ” 

“Don’t pretend as if you don’t know how...overwhelming you can be.” 

Thor tightened his grip on Loki’s waist. “Tell me.” 

“Thor!” 

“Tell me, Loki,” Thor begged. “I care for your opinion.”

Loki twisted around again, studying him intently and judging his sincerity no doubt. He harrumphed softly. “You are far too handsome for your own good.” His pleasure must’ve been evident on his face for Loki traced the warmth of his cheek with his fingertips. “You are arrogant and foolish and brash and exceedingly full of yourself. Also, you have an abysmal sense of decorum.” Thor frowned; all of that was true and none sounded like qualities worthy of the man in his arms. Loki’s fingers smoothed out his furrowed brow. “But you are also sweet and kind and silly and brave and wonderful and the most easily loveable person I had ever thought to meet in my entire life.” Loki’s gaze dropped from his, unsure, while Thor reeled from the quiet earnestness of his words. Loki leaned his forehead against Thor’s cheek. “So, I may’ve said a few not-so-nice things in the interest of hardening my heart against you, and for that I’m sorry.” 

Thor couldn’t help it; he kissed him. Soundly. Sweetly. Languidly. Forgiving Loki for any insult given. He nuzzled him fondly when he was done. “You were trying to protect yourself – and me, probably – by pushing me away; I can understand that. I would’ve done the same in your place.” 

Loki looked a little dumbstruck, his mouth pink and wet from Thor’s kiss. He hummed in seeming agreement to Thor’s words, but Thor wondered if he’d even heard them. He tried not to smile smugly when Loki turned to face forwards again and absently patted Mjölnir’s neck. 

After a few moments to collect himself, Loki cleared his throat. “What else do you remember of Kissing Town?” 

“I recall my grandmother gambling. And losing. Spectacularly and often. She’s got an awful poker face.” 

Loki chuckled. “I would’ve thought quite the opposite.” 

“In hindsight, I think she lost on purpose. She would always invite people to the tables who were down on their luck; she’d give them a chance to win back what they’d lost.” 

“She’s something else, your grandmother.” 

“That she is,” Thor agreed. “I also remember Kissing Town being an excellent place to dine, especially if you have a sweet tooth.”

“Really?” Loki asked, looking absolutely enthralled at the prospect. “And what of the pink heart butterflies? Are they real butterflies or are they magical hearts? Is there really a shop that sells _singing_ engagement rings?” Thor laughed at the barrage of questions and Loki sighed and confessed: “I didn’t want to stay here before because I was afraid that the hearts would not let me hide my feelings for you. Or worse, that if they did not appear, then your love for me was not as true as I’d hoped...” 

Thor reined Mjölnir to a stop and tipped Loki’s face up to his. “If you hold only one thing true for the rest of our lives, Loki, then let it be this: that my love for you is true and steadfast; I will love you and only you until the day I die.” 

“I know that now,” Loki whispered. “It was hard before, because I have a history of nothing ever going my way but, now...I _believe_ it. Because I can feel it, too.” 

Thor nodded, too emotional to speak; instead he kissed Loki, hoping Loki would feel the extent of his love in his kiss. When they parted, Loki kept his eyes closed and Thor swallowed, clicking his heels to get Mjölnir to move again. 

Loki leaned against him once more, looking well pleased with himself. He smirked up at Thor. “I am going to eat every sweet treat I see!” 

Thor laughed, very suddenly reminded that Loki was almost a decade younger than him. Right, he thought. Bedding Loki could wait until Thor could take him out on a proper date first. He was going to indulge Loki’s appetite until he was sated and, if that meant that any lovemaking would have to wait until the morning, then so be it. He could wait that long to satisfy any other desires Loki might have, Thor thought with a smug grin. 

Mjölnir’s pace more subdued as they rode on, as if he too, wanted to drag these moments out for as long as he could. They would soon need to return to the reality of their lives, and break down and rebuild the Ice Castle after purging it of the mark of Loki’s sisters. 

He suppressed a shudder at the thought of them. However had Loki survived living with them his entire life? The very thought was abhorrent. How frightened must he have been growing up? Thor was sure he didn’t know even half of what Loki’s sisters had put him through; he only hoped that someday Loki would tell him, trust him with those memories, harrowing as they must’ve been, so that Thor could share his burden and help him heal. He clutched Loki tighter and kissed the side of his neck, smiling when Loki sighed and pressed closer into Thor’s chest. 

For Thor, who had always scoffed at the very thought of falling in love frivolously, the breadth and depth of his feelings for Loki, so much and so fast, were shocking. Was this what others felt when they spoke of love at first sight? He couldn’t then blame them for tumbling head first into marriage if they felt even a fraction of what Thor already felt for Loki. 

Loki tipped his chin up, pursing his lips for a kiss that Thor happily gave him, making it lingering and tender. Loki smiled against his mouth and Thor kissed that beautiful smile, savouring the knowledge that he could do this now, that he had permission, that Loki allowed it. 

“I love you,” Loki said softly, sighing against his mouth. 

Thor’s heart clenched and tears prickled at his eyes as he looked into Loki’s face. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied. 

Mjölnir neighed in apparent agreement and Loki laughed and all was right in Thor’s world.

 

*** * ***

 

They were beset by the blasted pink heart butterflies as soon as they arrived at the outskirts of Kissing Town. First it was a pair, and they were pretty enough, though Thor could still not tell if they were really butterflies or hearts or some magical hybrid of both. Loki looked delighted, and it appeared to encourage the multiplication of the hearts until a swarm of them fluttered around their heads by the time they arrived outside the healers’ rooms at edge of town.

Thor would’ve been a lot more annoyed by them had Loki not been so enchanted. He couldn’t even be resentful, Thor thought, for the pink heart butterflies only swarmed when they encountered True Love between two people; their magic never failed, and this unexpected unshakeable testimony of the love Loki felt for him warmed him to the cockles of his heart.

“You’re irritated,” Loki accused as he dismounted after Thor, a teasing smile playing about his lips.

“No,” Thor argued, swatting away the hearts from right in front of his face.

“Liar.”

Thor ignored the tiny flying beasts and pulled Loki to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing him with fierce fondness. “You like them, so I will put up with them.”

“I like you more,” Loki replied breathlessly once Thor let him up for air, and dispersed the swarm with a wave of his hand.

The butterfly hearts still hovered around them, but they were no longer in Thor’s face. He kissed Loki’s hand in gratitude and kept hold of it as they ventured inside the healers’ rooms.

It didn’t take them long to find Wilhelm; he was sitting on a stone bench in the courtyard, in the sun, recuperating as he sipped what looked like a healing potion. He looked amazed and happy to see them but, when he tried to stand, Loki rushed to his side.

“No, no, please sit,” Loki said, taking the old man’s hand in his and sitting next to him. “How do you feel, Wilhelm?”

Thor gave the man’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he told Loki that he was feeling much better.

“Some large man with small wings saved me,” Wilhelm recalled. “I don’t remember much else and no one here is of any help. I did try to escape and come find you, your highness, but the healers captured me and trapped me here.”

Loki chuckled. “I’m glad they did.” He patted the man’s hand affectionately and Thor could see his throat working as he swallowed down his emotion. “I thought you dead, my friend. Otherwise I would never have left you.”

“You were bound and weakened by dark magic, my Prince; of course you had to leave,” Wilhelm insisted. “I’m so glad to see you free!”

Loki smiled, his cheeks reddening. “You owe your life to Thor; he wished for his fairy godfather to see your body back to our Kingdom. It was the Fae King Heimdall who found you alive and saved you.”

Wilhelm gasped. “Rumpelstiltskin! Thank you, First Prince, and your fairy godfather, for your kindness to a servant.”

“You are no servant, Wilhelm,” Thor said before Loki could. “You are Loki’s dear friend; it was the least I could do.”

Loki reached for Thor’s hand and clasped it like a lifeline. Wilhelm watched them like a hawk, an inordinately pleased smile growing on his face.

“I thank you both most sincerely. What of the foul git who took you, my Prince?” 

“He lost his head,” Loki said, much to Wilhelm’s dark delight. “Thanks to Mjölnir.”

“A worthy beast of the North, that one,” Wilhelm remarked with a grin before quickly sobering. “And your sisters?”

Loki stiffened, and Thor squeezed his hand in solidarity. “They’re dead; punished for their crimes by the Nine Kingdoms Council.”

Wilhelm looked flabbergasted and shocked and immensely relieved and ecstatically happy all at once. “How...?”

Loki laughed humourlessly. “It’s a long story; I will tell you on the way back home. If you feel able and wish to return?”

“Of course, my Prince,” Wilhelm reassured him. “For the first time in a long time, your highness, I do not fear for the future of our kingdom. And, in that, my place is, as ever, by your side.”

“No,” Loki argued gently, patting his hand with his free one. “Your place is with your family, in well-earned retirement from the Queen’s Elite Guard,” Loki said, and Wilhelm had the grace to look sheepish. “Thank you, Wilhelm; for all you’ve done for me all my life, and for protecting me, in secret, and when no one else could. I only ask, as Thor said, that you take a new place in my life, as my friend.”

“You honour me greatly, your highness.”

“ _I_ am honoured to call you friend, Wilhelm,” Loki said as he drew Thor close and brought his hand to his lips for a soft kiss. “I have someone else who will now be always by my side,” he declared with a smile as Thor dropped to one knee and brought their clasped hands to rest over his heart.

“Is there to be happy news soon?” Wilhelm asked with barely contained excitement, looking between them and nodding at their joined hands. Loki blushed and Thor, too, felt his own cheeks flame. The old man, it appeared, needed no other confirmation and he laughed merrily. “Congratulations, my Princes! I wish you every joy! Long may you reign, forever may your love last, and Happily Ever After may you both live!”

 

*** * ***

 

After they’d left Wilhelm with the promise of returning soon to collect him and make their return to the Eighth Kingdom, Thor and Loki walked Mjölnir through the cobblestoned main road of the town. It was just past midday and the streets were bustling with activity, market stalls peddling their wares as people laughed gaily and flitted from one to the other in search of a good bargain or a tasty treat.

The entire airy mood of love and cheeriness that would’ve sent Thor fleeing for his life before now only had him smiling indulgently as Loki took every new sight in with a breathless wonderment that he didn’t even think to hide. 

Thor bought them iced cream-filled buns, and apples for Mjölnir, and they ate as they walked, hand in hand, until Loki drew to a stop in front of a tailor’s shop, staring at a bolt of artfully draped velvet fabric in the window; it was a lustrous emerald green and would bring out the lovely shade of his eyes to perfection. 

“We do need to change out of these clothes,” Thor told him as they both looked down at their less-than-princely attire. 

It was all the encouragement Loki needed and they spent a good half an hour inside as he detailed exactly what he wanted to the awestruck tailor, who was beside himself with pride that not one but two Princes of the Nine had chosen his humble establishment for their patronage. Loki promised to reward him handsomely, and with repeated business, if he did a good job, and the man almost fell over himself in his fervent promise to do so. 

When they left the tailor with an assurance to send someone to pick up their new clothes later, Loki smiled in satisfaction. “He has magical skill; I’m sure the clothes will be lovely. You know...I have never before been allowed to choose my own garments.” 

“No?” Thor asked, surprised for a second before he remembered what he knew of Loki’s family. “You always look beautiful regardless of what you wear anyway. You looked enchanting the night of the ball; I will never forget the sight of you standing at the top of the stairs looking down on us, a vision of loveliness, like some otherworldly creature of myth and magic.” Thor sighed when Loki looked startled. “Why does it always surprise you so much when I compliment you?” 

Loki cleared his throat. “You are far too effusive in your praise.” 

“You are deserving of such praise,” Thor said, winding his arms around Loki’s waist and pulling him close enough for their noses to brush. “You accused me of being too...flowery before, but I only speak the truth.” 

Loki’s nose bumped his affectionately before he pulled back slightly. “I was terrified that night, you know. At the top of the stairs. Scared of failing, or falling. Of everything.” He sighed when Thor’s grip tightened. “Then I saw you – and Wendell – but...mostly you. We weren’t even friends then but I still felt bolstered by your presence.” 

“I’m glad,” Thor whispered. “And I assure you, Loki, that I am here whenever you need me; I wish to be your strength should you feel weak, and I shall be your courage when you’re afraid. I hope to receive that same reassurance from you as well.” 

“You have it,” Loki promised. He looked at Thor quizzically. “Are you ever afraid?” 

“Yes; your sisters terrified me.” 

“You hid it well.” 

“So did you.”

“No,” Loki said, shaking his head as if to dispel the memory. “I was terrified for you. I could not hide that. When you fell...”

Thor shushed him when he saw the devastated look in Loki’s eyes. “I’m here. Your love for me brought me back; you saved me.” 

“Our love,” Loki said, correcting him. “It goes both ways.” 

“It most certainly does,” Thor agreed, taking Loki’s face in his hands and punctuating his words with a kiss. He traced the dark smudges under Loki’s tired eyes with the pads of his thumbs. “You look exhausted, my love. Let’s go rest now and we’ll continue our tour tonight. Kissing Town is lit up at night. Fairies, fireflies, and lightning bugs everywhere; you’ll love it.” 

“Just as much as you’ll hate it, no doubt,” Loki teased as Thor led them towards the biggest hotel in town. 

“I will not! I am seeing things anew through your eyes,” Thor reassured him. “Truly, I’m so excited to show you all my favourite places in the Nine, to see if you like them too.” 

Loki smiled and linked his arm through Thor’s. “I can’t wait.” 

Neither could Thor, he thought as he steered them to the huge glass-doored entrance of the most opulent hotel in Kissing Town, owned by Queen Cinderella herself. Leaving Loki to admire the paintings that had caught his eye in the lobby, Thor went to check them in. The topmost floor of the hotel was exclusively for the use of the First Kingdom’s royal family and their guests, none of whom were thankfully in residence at the moment. After a moment’s thought, Thor chose two lovely rooms for Loki and himself, those whose doors were on opposite sides of the hall from each other. 

“You got us two rooms,” Loki remarked in surprise when they arrived at their rooms. 

“In case you were not ready to share with me just yet,” Thor said with a shrug, sure that his cheeks reddened. 

“Thank you,” Loki said softly, looking a bit bashful himself. “It is all still very...” 

“Overwhelming?” 

Loki blew out a sigh of relief. “Yes. Exactly.” 

Thor took his hand and kissed his palm. “I don’t wish for you to be uncomfortable in any way, Loki. Things have moved fast; we can slow down whenever you wish. I still have to remind myself that we did not know each other just last week, even though it feels like I’ve known you all my life.” 

Loki inhaled sharply as he glanced up at him. “I thought that was just me!” 

Thor smiled. “I am glad you feel the same.” 

“Are you...overwhelmed?” Loki asked hesitantly and, in that moment, Thor was again reminded of just how young he was. 

“From the first moment we met,” Thor admitted honestly. He opened his arms to Loki. “Hug?” 

Loki grinned, closing the small distance between them, and wrapping his arms around Thor’s waist, leaning into his body and tucking his face into the crook of Thor’s neck where it met his shoulder.

Thor realised with sudden clarity that he would be very happy himself, standing with Loki in his arms for the rest of his life. He felt strangely nervous as he asked softly: “Will you allow me to take you on a date? Dinner, dessert, dancing – anything your heart desires.” 

Loki pulled back to look at him, his green gaze lit up with excitement. “I would love nothing better,” he said breathlessly. “I never even dreamed or dared to wish...” his voice trailed off as he wound his arms around Thor’s neck and hugged him close. “Thank you, Thor,” he whispered. “Thank you for all these firsts you’re giving me.” 

Thor swallowed past the lump in his throat, moved beyond what he could possibly put into words. “They are firsts for me too, Loki,” he confessed. “Though I may be older and more experienced than you – there are a lot of things I wish to do with you that will be the first time for me as well.” 

“Truly?” 

“Absolutely.” Thor drew in a breath and pushed Loki away from him; if he held him for any longer, Thor felt like he’d never be able to let him go. “Go rest. Bathe, relax. There are fluffy robes and even sets of sleep-clothes in all the rooms here. They are all new and in a variety of sizes. Something is bound to fit you.” 

“Your grandmother doesn’t scrimp, does she?” 

“Never,” Thor said with a laugh. “Our new clothes will be delivered later. Once they are, we can go out.” 

Loki looked up at him, and his green gaze guarded. “What if...?” 

“What if...?” 

“What if I didn’t want to be alone right now?” 

Thor smiled softly. “I’m right here. Just walk over and knock on my door.” Loki bit his lip in uncertainty, so Thor reassured him, cupping Loki’s cheek in his hand and pressing a fervent kiss to his forehead. “You will always be welcome wherever I am.” 

Loki smiled and nodded and parted from him reluctantly. Thor, meanwhile, washed as fast as he could – which was not as fast as he would’ve liked considering the tangled mess of his hair that he’d had to unravel before washing it – and was dressed and ready in a new pair of pyjamas just as there was a quiet knock on his door. 

Loki stood on the threshold, scrubbed clean and similarly attired, looking sleepy and exhausted and gorgeous despite it; Thor lead him to the huge bed in the room and tucked him in under the covers. While Loki settled, he drew the drapes closed to block most of the afternoon sun, and opened the balcony doors to let in a fresh breeze. 

It also let in some fluttery pink heart butterflies, but they made Loki smile sleepily, so Thor didn’t mind them as much. Once he was satisfied that everything was perfect and restful, he relaxed on the chaise longue overlooking the balcony. 

“What’re you doing?” Loki asked, somewhat grouchily from the direction of the bed. 

“Taking a nap?” 

“I see that,” Loki drawled acerbically. “Why are you doing it over there when there is a perfectly good bed – made for napping and sleeping, I might add – right here?” 

“Because you’re in it?” 

“So you can’t be in it, too?” Loki made a show of studying said bed. “I feel like four people could fit comfortably in this bed.” 

“Five or six, actually,” Thor told him, his own eyes widening when Loki’s did. He wanted to smack himself in the face for his stupidity. “I meant...my brothers and sisters! They have no concept of personal space! We pile on one another like puppies, sometimes.” 

Loki bit his lip to hold back laugh but then turned down the covers by his side. “Come here.” 

Thor gulped. “There? With you?” 

“Is there a problem with me? Here?” 

“No! No. Why would there be a problem? No problem at all.” 

Thor drew in a deep breath and stood on unsteady feet, watching Loki watch him walk – slowly – to the bed. He got into bed and gingerly laid down, careful to keep his distance from Loki’s body but Loki, apparently, had no such qualms. He glommed onto Thor and let out the biggest sigh as he settled his cheek on Thor’s chest. 

“Is this all right?” he whispered.

Thor heaved in a deep breath and tried to collect his wits; then he wrapped his arms around Loki and kept him anchored close. 

“This is perfect,” he whispered back.

 

*** * ***

 

“It’s rude to stare,” Loki said, a teasing smile playing about his lips. 

Thor blinked, unaware that he’d been staring in the first place, but who could blame him when he was confronted with so much loveliness as was before him? 

From the moment he’d woken from their nap, he’d been staring. First mesmerised by the soft slackness of Loki’s pink lips as they’d parted on a sigh, then by the softness of his cheek, then by the dark smudge of Loki’s lashes just beneath his eyes, and finally by their crystal clear green depths when Loki woke minutes or hours or eons later. 

He stared some more when Loki stepped into the hotel lobby dressed in his new clothes, in that deep emerald green that complimented his eyes and dark hair and fair skin. He looked so beautiful that every head in the room turned to him as everyone stopped and stared. People stared as they walked down the cobbled streets of Kissing Town taking in the sights and sounds of the night as they walked to the restaurant. The other diners stared as they ate. The musicians stared as they serenaded them. It was all too much staring, and Thor was so thoroughly annoyed that he’d suggested dessert back at the hotel, in the open-air rooftop restaurant, where they could dine in the seclusion of the Queen’s private terrace. 

“Everyone was staring,” Thor grumbled. 

“Yes,” Loki commented dryly, “at _you_.” 

Thor reared back. “They were staring at you!” 

“I think that, on this subject, we should agree to disagree,” Loki said, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

Thor found himself staring at that little twitch, that first inkling of a smile. Loki had held himself back as soon as they’d stepped out of the hotel, reminding Thor of how he’d been the night of the ball – proper and poised and with nary a hair out of place. The moment they’d been left alone on the terrace, however, he’d lost his stiff demeanour and relaxed, his smiles becoming more genuine and frequent. 

Thor scooted his chair closer; they’d started out sitting across from each other around the small round table; now, they sat side by side with an inky sky full of glittering stars above them, pink hearts and fireflies fluttering nearby. Thor rested his chin on his hand and stared at Loki some more. Loki laughed at him and Thor huffed. 

“I can’t help but stare. You’re lucky I still have enough wits about me to string together sentences.” 

“Yes, that is shocking,” Loki drawled as he mimicked Thor, chin in hand. “Are you going to kiss me? You haven’t kissed me since before our nap.” 

“I was afraid,” Thor murmured, moving closer. 

Loki moved closer still. “Of what?” 

“Not being able to stop,” Thor whispered. 

“Would that have been so bad?” Loki asked softly, his lips brushing against Thor’s as he spoke. 

“No,” Thor breathed as he closed that infinitesimal distance between them and kissed him languorously, his tongue delving into Loki’s mouth as it opened in invitation, licking across his tongue, and tracing across his teeth, tasting the sweetness of their dessert, and the tartness of the wine they’d drunk with their meal. 

It was heady and, when they broke apart, Thor surreptitiously adjusted the serviette in his lap to cover any evidence of the desire he’d mercilessly kept in check since he’d woken up hard and wanting with Loki all soft and pliable in his arms. 

“Thank you,” Loki said, covering Thor’s big hand with his smaller, more delicate one. “Tonight was...perfect. I will never forget it.” 

Thor swallowed; when he spoke, his voice was gruff. “You’re welcome. I hope to share many more nights like this with you.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you,” Loki said, chuckling. “I know you don’t like romance.” 

Thor frowned. “Who told you that?” 

“Your grandmother.” 

Figures, Thor thought; she was an annoying old busybody. “Well, what does she know?” 

“A lot, it would seem.” 

“I did not like romance,” Thor conceded. “Because I had not yet met you.” He frowned. “Was that why you...held back tonight? I felt like perhaps you did not enjoy yourself as much as I thought you would.”

“No, I loved it all. I just did not wish to make you uncomfortable by...fawning...all over you.” 

Thor raised his brows. “You would’ve fawned? Over me? Loki, I would’ve loved that! Fawn away! Feel free to fawn all over me now!” 

“You’re incorrigible!” Loki said, laughing, but obviously delighted if the blush upon his cheeks was anything to go by. He pushed away his plate. “I can’t eat another bite. It’s all too delicious.” 

“Eat your fill, Loki. It’s just us here,” Thor reassured him. “I want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy,” Loki insisted. “But if you encourage me like that, I fear I’ll get fat.” 

Thor shrugged. “So get fat; I care not, and neither should you. Perhaps I’ll get fat with you, and we can be happy and fat and well-fed together. And we can have cute chubby children as well.”

Loki blinked at him in shock. “Children?” he squeaked. 

Thor stopped and thought and then wanted to kick himself. “Er...” 

“Do you wish to have _many_ children?” Loki asked, looking a bit like a startled deer. 

“Only as many as _you_ wish to have. But you are still young...” Thor huffed out a breath. “Too young to be thinking of children, perhaps. Sorry. I keep forgetting the years that separate us.” 

Thor was startled when Loki smacked him none-too-gently in the chest. “You were in a magical sleep for ten years. Mentally, that makes us about the same age.” 

Thor blinked in surprise at Loki’s (actually quite valid) point. “Huh.” 

“I had not thought of children,” Loki confided, “because I had never thought to ever marry. Or to ever marry for love.” 

“It matters not,” Thor said. “I mean, whether you want one or none or you want to give the old woman who lives in a giant shoe a run for her money.” 

Loki snorted. “Maybe not quite that many.” 

“My siblings have loads of children,” Thor said, babbling and not able to stop himself. “And quite a few of them are very cute and mostly not evil. We can spoil them as much as we like and then return them to their parents when they tire us out. It is a perfect compromise.”

“Yes, I’m sure your siblings will love you for it.” 

“It’s only what they deserve for my having to put up with them all my life. We shall be everyone’s favourite uncles,” Thor joked. Then he took Loki’s hand in his and beseeched him with his eyes. “And if you do not wish for children, then can we please adopt a menagerie of cute, cuddly, vicious little animals?” 

Loki reared back. “I am not adopting a baby basilisk with you, Thor!” 

“Aw, Loki, why not? You can brew the potion. I’ll help! We’ll make a stock.” 

“You are a ridiculous person!” 

“But I love snakes!” 

“Argh, fine! I’ll turn into one and you can play with me!” Loki blinked, mortified, as soon as the words left his mouth. Thor ruined it by snorting out a laugh which immediately had Loki laughing too. 

When their laughter tapered off, they somehow ended up how they started, chins on hands and staring at each other, like the pair of besotted fools that they were. 

“I got the dinner and the dessert,” Loki said softly. “Was I also not promised dancing?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Thor replied, standing to find a waiter so that a troupe of musicians could be summoned. 

“No need for us to be disturbed,” Loki chided, as he stood and waved his hands in the air. Thor watched as wisps of aquamarine magic slipped from his fingertips, surrounding them as they dissipated, enshrouding them in a glittery mist from which the sweet sound of violins could be heard. 

Thor grabbed Loki by the waist and twirled him until they stood, chest to chest, not a whisper of space between them, on the starlit terrace. “You are a marvel,” he whispered, as the music washed over them both, stirring and poignant. He was seized by madness as they stared into each other’s eyes; that could be his only excuse for blurting it out the way he did. “Will you marry me, Loki?” 

Loki’s eyes widened with surprise, and his pretty mouth parted on a gasp. “Thor...” 

Thor groaned; he was such an idiot. He dropped his head onto Loki’s shoulder and thumped it there a few times, willing his next words to make sense. “Forgive me. Of course, I will ask you formally. It will be brilliant and romantic and I promise to sweep you off your feet.” He raised his head to see Loki still startled; he groaned again. “I just...you want to, right? Marry me, I mean? I know I’m not like you; I know I’m rough around the edges, but I love you and I will do everything in my power to prove how much every day of our lives together.” He bit his lip before his mouth could get him into even more trouble. “If you’ll have me, that is.” 

Loki smiled; it was small at first but it grew in brightness until it outshone the moon above their heads. “Did you forget that we were being presented with honeymoon options not too long ago?” 

Thor felt his cheeks flush. “That was said in jest. And you are too kind to reject me in front of others...” 

“Did you then forget that you are my True Love?” Loki asked teasingly. 

Thor was sure he looked aghast. “No! Never!” 

Loki stared up at him. “Perhaps it is I who should be asking you if you wished to marry me,” he whispered. “You who do not believe in marriage.”

 “I _did_ not believe,” Thor insisted. “My beliefs on that matter have changed since I met you.” 

Loki smiled again, a little proud and a little shy, and rested his cheek on Thor’s shoulder, tucking his face into the crook of Thor’s neck – his favoured spot, it would seem – as they swayed to the mellow sounds of the music in the air. “Then you have nothing to worry about,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to Thor’s neck. “I cannot wait to marry you.” 

Too choked up to speak, Thor simply nodded, tightening his arms around Loki as he held him close. How long they stood swaying under the stars, Thor couldn’t tell. He wanted the night to never end with just as much fervour that he wanted to be done with this moment, just so they could move to the next, inevitable one. 

For that was where they were heading, he was sure, perhaps this night or the one after or the one after that, but they were going to be together, and they were going to be happy, and nothing else mattered. 

When they parted ways for the night, after several sizzling kisses, Thor tried not to be disappointed. 

Patience was a virtue he absolutely needed to acquire if he was going to be with Loki, and there was no time like the present to acquire it. 

He was meticulous in ways he’d never been before as he prepared for bed: he carefully put away his new clothes after removing them, making sure to shake out any creases; he showered, and methodically stripped his cock to slake the desire he’d kept at bay all night; then he’d donned his pyjamas and combed out the tangles in his hair before bed for once, twisting it all into a loose bun at his nape. He dropped into bed, hoping sleep wouldn’t elude him for long. 

It all went to shite when he hugged close the pillow Loki had laid on. The wintry spicy-sweet scent that was unique to Loki filled his nose and it was enough to send Thor tumbling out of bed again. He threw open the balcony doors to let in the cool night air; he was far too overheated. He stripped off his shirt and did some jumping jacks. Then he dropped to the ground and did some push-ups and sit-ups and then stood under the balcony doors and did some pull-ups using the door jamb. 

At the end of it all, he was still restless and anxious and nothing had dispelled the thrum of desire in his blood. 

He was contemplating going for a run or a midnight ride with Mjölnir when there was a knock on his door. 

He froze; his heart thudding hard in his chest. 

When he mustered up the strength to answer the call, he saw Loki, looking just as twitchy and crazed as Thor felt. 

Loki practically panted as he looked up at him through his lashes. “I don’t have any sweet treats,” he said, reminding Thor of the time he’d stood at Loki’s door, tempting him with delicacies.

“You’re a sweet treat,” Thor felt it prudent to point out.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

Thor scratched behind his ear. “Er...could you not sleep?” 

“No, Thor, I could not!” Loki complained, poking Thor in his sweaty chest, and then just resting his hand there, finger by finger, until his palm laid atop the drumbeat of Thor’s heart. “Why in the fairying forests did you get two rooms?” he asked incredulously, giving up the tenuous hold he had on his desire as he practically threw himself into Thor’s waiting arms. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know! Get in here,” Thor said on a gasp as he gathered him close. “I’m going to wreck you and you’re going to love every second of it!” Thor vowed as he stumbled backwards, though he had the presence of mind to shut the door, if only so he could press Loki against it.

Loki kissed him like he’d declared war on Thor’s mouth, his tongue plundering deep, rubbing against Thor’s tongue with strokes both bold and bashful, but hungry all the same.

When Loki broke off the kiss to breathe, Thor tried not to explode on the spot; he’d hardly touched Loki and yet he looked thoroughly debauched. Thor was sure he’d never seen a lovelier sight before in his life.

“Why, your highness,” he teased breathlessly, “this hardly seems like proper behaviour for a Prince.”

Loki licked his lips, his green eyes smouldering with pent up desire. “Fuck propriety.”

Thor grinned. “I’d rather fuck you.”

Loki laughed. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

“You wish is my command, my Prince,” Thor said, laughing and hugging Loki to his chest before scooping him up into his arms and carrying him to bed.

Loki looked stunned. “You really are very strong.”

“It does come in handy sometimes.”

“Yes, it does,” Loki murmured as Thor laid him down on the soft mattress and hovered over him, propped up by both his arms. Loki traced the outline of corded muscles in his arms with a look in his eyes that bordered on awe. “You are... _beautiful_.”

Thor bit back a smug smile. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Everyone thinks so; people stared at you all night long. _I_ stared at you all night long,” Loki confided, “but even I never expected... _this_. You don’t seem real.”

Thor lowered himself over Loki until their faces were inches apart. “I can assure you that I am very real.”

Loki nodded absently, his hands exploring the dips and curves of Thor’s arms, his shoulders and down his chest. He tried not to shiver at the reverent touch. “You are perfection,” Loki murmured before frowning. “Why are you sweaty?”

“I had to blow off a little steam,” Thor muttered as he kissed the corner of Loki’s mouth, the same one that always twitched a second before he smiled.

“I’m not like you,” Loki said, sounding hesitant.

“I’m glad for it,” Thor told him, kissing his cheek and nipping at his jaw. “I’m not attracted to me.” Loki snorted. “I am, however, very attracted to you.”

“You are?” Loki asked softly, hopefully, breathlessly, as he wound his arms around Thor’s neck and pulled him closer.

“I am,” Thor assured him, allowing his arms to give way so that his body could be flush with Loki’s for the first time. He slotted into the vee of Loki’s legs perfectly, like a lost puzzle piece finally meeting its match, and both of them sighed at the sensation. He felt the heat and hardness of Loki’s cock and knew that their proximity meant that Loki felt him too. “Do you want to take off your shirt?” he asked, longing to feel Loki’s skin against his.

“Yes,” Loki breathed.

His hands left their exploration of Thor’s back as he unbuttoned his shirt. Thor lifted himself off him so he could watch him remove it, his movements slow and sensual, and then _he_ was staring at _Loki’s_ chest, all hairless and smooth alabaster skin, with dusky little pink nipples perfect for nipping and teasing and sucking, so Thor did just that.

Loki groaned and fisted his hands in Thor’s bound hair as Thor feasted on him, laving one pretty pebbled nipple and then the other with broad strokes of his tongue before sucking and rolling the little nub between his teeth.

“Thor, please!” Loki begged, breathing hard. 

Thor allowed him some respite as he stroked a wet nipple with his thumb while his mouth claimed Loki’s in a kiss that was hot and deep. Loki opened to him like he was thirsting for his touch, and Thor revelled in it. 

When Thor moved to nip at his sharp jaw and lick down the column of Loki’s throat, Loki keened and pushed against him. 

“I’ve never done this before...” he whispered. 

“Done what?” 

Loki whacked his arm. “ _This_ , you dolt!” 

“Oh.” Thor immediately pulled back, but then he grinned smugly. “ _Oh_.” 

Loki groaned and rolled his eyes. Thor knew he hadn’t stopped things because he no longer wanted him, for Loki still gripped him close and tight. If it was reassurance he wanted, or a moment to breathe, Thor could give him that. 

“Have you thought about how you want me?” 

“How I want you?” Loki stared at him like he was the stupidest person in existence. “I want you in every way! Can you not tell?” 

Thor huffed out a laugh. “I meant: how do you want me to make love to you?” Thor leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Do you wish to take my cock, or do you wish me to take yours?” 

Loki gasped, his warm breath tickling Thor’s shoulder. He swallowed audibly. “I... You... Umm...you do it! You’re the expert; what if I’m bad at it? You teach me; I’ll learn from you!” 

“You’re not going to be bad at it,” Thor growled, kissing him soundly. “We have barely even begun and I am fit to bursting.” Loki bit his lip to stifle his nervous smile; Thor smiled back reassuringly. “Don’t worry, love. I shall be gentle and I shall be thorough. And I’m going to start by kissing every exquisite inch of your body.” 

Thor slid his hands beneath Loki’s arms until they hooked over his shoulders from behind, allowing him to lift Loki’s back off the bed a few scant inches enough for his head to tilt back, baring his throat to Thor’s heated gaze and his ravenous mouth. 

Then he did what he’d longed to do since the night of the ball, and kissed the dip in Loki’s throat, dragging his tongue over soft skin, dipping into that sweet divot and savouring the taste of him, salt and sweat, as he licked and sucked his mark into creamy skin. Loki moaned wantonly, his hands buried in Thor’s hair as he panted and rubbed his cock into Thor’s abdomen, hooking one ankle around Thor’s leg to steady himself. 

Thor could feel the wetness leaking from Loki’s cock as it dampened the silk of his pyjamas and suddenly he couldn’t wait to get his mouth around him. He left off his mapping of Loki’s neck and shoulders and nibbled and kissed his way down Loki’s chest. He detoured again when he got to his nipples, because they taunted him and he couldn’t resist, and the pink nubs stiffened to reddened peaks when he was done biting and sucking at them until Loki was a writhing mess. 

Loki looked devastated, like he couldn’t fathom such a reaction brought forth in himself, like he’d never before known how sensitive he’d be.

Thor pressed his heavy body against Loki’s lighter frame, pushing him back into the mattress and aligning his body over Loki’s from head to toe as much as he could, until their eyes were level so Thor could kiss and nip at his mouth again, because he was suddenly starving for the feel of Loki’s lips against his own. 

“Have you not pleasured yourself before, Loki?” he whispered against Loki’s kiss-swollen lips. 

“Of course...I...have,” Loki said, gasping each time Thor kissed him. 

“Did you like it?” Thor asked, staring into Loki’s eyes. 

Loki stared back as if mesmerised, almost as if he couldn’t have looked away if he’d tried. “It...served its purpose.” 

“And what was that?” 

“Release.” 

“Nothing else? You’ve never pleasured yourself just for pleasure’s sake? Just to feel good?” 

“It’s never felt this good,” Loki confessed as he looked away, embarrassed. “There was never any time for anything other than release. I was terrified of being caught. Of being ridiculed for it.” 

Thor kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t pity me,” Loki snarled, finally looking back at him. 

“I don’t,” Thor insisted as he brushed back the Loki’s hair and cradled his face between his hands. “You are brave and strong, of mind and body and spirit. There is nothing pitiable about you. I only wish I’d met you sooner.” 

“I did wish that,” Loki said so softly that Thor had to strain to hear it. 

“What?” 

“When I made your potion, Heimdall granted me one wish in payment.” 

“A worthy trade, I suppose, considering how powerful he is,” Thor mused. “What did you wish for?” 

Loki sighed and twirled a loose lock of Thor’s hair around his finger. “I wished to meet my True Love. I was sixteen at the time.” 

“I still cannot believe you brewed that potion at such a young age,” Thor marvelled, and kissed Loki. “I am sorry that I kept you waiting, though. I was in no condition to meet you then; I was weak when Heimdall woke me to administer the potion.” 

“It’s all right,” Loki teased. “What’s a few years between friends?” 

Thor chuckled. “Indeed.” He nipped at Loki’s bottom lip before sucking at it playfully. “And I sincerely hope we are more than just friends.” 

“Well, we would be if someone would get a move on,” Loki remarked, as if bored. He even affected a yawn that had Thor chuckling. 

He pressed a smacking kiss to Loki’s chest, right above his heart. “Why the rush? I want to savour every moment of our first time together.” 

“I do, too,” Loki admitted, wrapping his arms around Thor and simply hugging him close. “I’m so glad it’s you.” 

Thor smiled against the bare skin of Loki’s shoulder; he couldn’t help but press a kiss there. “I’m very happy to have found you, too. It’s obvious that we’re meant to be,” he said, looking into Loki’s lovely eyes. “No one else compares.” Loki’s cheeks flushed prettily and he looked pleased. “Tell me, what did you do when you pleasured yourself?” 

Loki’s blush deepened. “I just...touched...myself. It was quick.” 

Thor brushed his thumb over Loki’s rosy nipple and was rewarded by a shiver and a sigh. “Did you do this? Did you pinch and tug and squeeze your nipples?” 

Loki’s face went a riotous red, and when he finally spoke, his voice was strangled. “I... _No_.” 

“Shame,” Thor mused, mercilessly teasing and flicking and suckling at his nipples as he spoke. “You seem to like it a great deal.” 

“When...when you do it.” 

“Oh, Loki,” Thor said with a pleased sigh of his own. “There is a great deal of pleasure to be had at your own hands. Especially with me watching. I will show you some day. Another day when I have more patience. That day is not today.” 

Loki smirked. “Will it be any time soon?” 

“Probably not. Maybe one day when we’re old and grey.” 

“I can’t imagine you... _patient_ ,” Loki cried, gasping as Thor sucked what was sure to be another lurid mark into the side of his neck. 

“You only have yourself to blame,” Thor growled as Loki squirmed in his arms, his thigh grazing Thor’s hard cock. “What is patience when there is so much enticement before me?” He sighed wondrously. “Truly, you’re so lovely; you take my breath away.” 

Thor then remembered his quest and resumed kissing down Loki’s chest, taking care to trace the outline of his ribs, making him giggle in surprise as he found one ticklish spot after another: the base of his ribcage, the spot beneath his navel, the sides of his belly. He kept moving until he’d divested Loki of his pyjama bottoms, baring the smooth creamy skin of his legs, before tickling his feet and the backs of his knees. 

Loki was breathless with laughter by the time Thor found his way to the juncture between Loki’s thighs. Here, too, Loki was hairless, his cock risen, hard and pink, its tip leaking copiously as it lay against his flat stomach. By the Nine, he was flawless; Thor had never encountered such perfection before in a lover. Taking a moment to recover his own breath, he drew Loki’s body down the length of the bed, until Thor was kneeling on the floor and Loki was able to plant his feet on either side of Thor, his legs spread obscenely wide. 

Thor glanced up to see Loki watching him with bated breath, his pupils dilated with desire. 

He tickled Loki’s pretty prick with the hair of his beard, and was enamoured with the way Loki gasped, so sensitive to his every touch already. “May I?” he asked softly, asking for countless permissions with those two little words. 

Loki bit his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded hard as his hands gripped the sheets. Thor gently untangled them and placed them on his head instead, pulling his hair free of its binding so it fell about his shoulders; Loki gulped at the sight. “Pull and tug if it pleases you,” Thor whispered, “for it pleases me very much.” 

He placed a lingering kiss to the inside of Loki’s thigh before moving up to lick the crease of it, making sure to nuzzle Loki’s sac with the tip of his nose. Though hesitant at first, Loki buried his fingers in Thor’s hair, whining softly as he anchored himself. 

“Let me hear you, love,” Thor told him, their gazes catching and holding as Thor’s tongue licked a languid strip up the length of Loki’s cock, from balls to tip. Loki’s gasp turned into a strangled moan as Thor’s mouth closed over the dribbling head and sucked, before losing all patience and drawing as much of his cock into his mouth as possible. 

The taste of him, bitter and sharp, made all sense vanish from Thor’s head as he feasted and sucked and licked, bobbing his head as he gripped the base in his hand and lavished Loki’s cock with all the praise it was due. Loki moaned increasingly shamelessly and Thor rejoiced in the sounds falling from his lips, and the tight, almost painful, grip he had on Thor’s hair. 

When Loki’s breath began to catch again and again in his throat, Thor pulled off, giving him a moment to breathe as he instead sucked one ball and then the other, softly, rolling them in his mouth even as they hardened, drawing up, a portent of Loki’s imminent bliss. With one hand, he slipped his hand down his sleep trousers and kept a tight hold on his own cock, willing it to behave, for the mere thought of Loki achieving his completion was enough to set him on edge. 

When he felt marginally calmer, he slid his palms beneath Loki’s arse, and squeezed the delectable mounds hard as he lifted, the move bringing Loki’s cock closer. Thor closed his greedy mouth over it again and sucked, this time dragging his tongue again and again over the sensitive nerves at its underside, grazing his teeth against the head just enough to make Loki clutch his hair and whimper in pleasure. 

Thor massaged his arse cheeks and spread them apart, slipping his middle finger to trace along the crease, before allowing it to gently snag on the furled little hole and press. Loki cried out, his hips coming off the bed, his cock plunging deeper into Thor’s mouth and pulsing as he came. Thor valiantly managed not to choke and instead swallowed his spend down, suckling at his cock to drag every last drop out, whining softly when he found that Loki had nothing more to give.  

Finally, after what seemed both an age and a fleeting moment at once, he pulled off and sat on his heels, an unforgiving grip on his own cock as he staved off releasing his own spend. He tried not to feel smug as he watched Loki gingerly lift his head up to stare at him down the length of his flushed body, now gleaming with sweat. His eyes were glassy and but the look on his face was one of wonder. 

Thor pressed a pleased kiss to Loki’s knee and kept kissing up one thigh and across Loki’s abdomen, stopping here and there to lick up traces of his pre-spend, as Loki groaned and covered his face with his hands. 

Frowning, Thor edged up until his face hovered over Loki’s hands; he kissed one and then the other, nudging between them with his nose until Loki moved them, his arms winding around Thor’s neck as he buried his hot face in the crook of Thor’s neck. 

He mumbled something that Thor didn’t quite catch, but he gave him a moment, lying flat on his back and taking Loki with him, as he breathed deeply and calmed himself.

“What is it?” 

Loki groaned softly again and just the sound of it stirred Thor’s cock. “It’s...it’s never – that was too fast,” Loki muttered, sounding embarrassed. “I’m sorry! You must think me such a clod.” 

Thor chuckled and tugged Loki close when he made to pull away. “I think nothing of the sort,” he said, waiting until Loki to open one scrunched up eye and then the other as he mustered the courage to look at Thor. “You want to know what I think?” Loki nodded. “I think I’m the luckiest man in all the Nine. Not only do I have my Prince of Dreams in my heart and in my bed, but he is wonderful and he loves me and we’ll be together forever and he will let me do all manner of mischievous and wonderful things to his person, no questions asked.” 

Loki snorted. “I do not recall giving you that blanket permission.” 

“Do you not?” 

“No.” 

“Will you give it now?” 

“Wholeheartedly.” 

“Excellent; now where was I?” 

“You were making me see stars even though my eyes were closed,” Loki said on a sigh, rising up on one elbow to hover above Thor. “You should kiss me.” 

“Oh, my favourite pastime.” Loki grinned as he leaned down and Thor rose up, their mouths meeting and already open to the exploration of each other’s tongues. When they parted for air much, much later, Thor asked: “Do you trust me, Loki?” 

“Endlessly.” 

“Then turn around, sweetheart,” Thor whispered, kissing Loki one last time before Loki followed his direction, getting on his hands and knees and crawling up the length of the bed 

Thor shimmied out of his pyjama bottoms and followed, riveted by the sway of Loki’s bare bottom in his face, captivated as he watched Loki lie flat on his belly, his head nestled on his folded arms. 

Thor grabbed a pillow and lifted Loki’s hips, sliding it beneath them, positioning him until his arse was raised, presented to Thor like the feast for the eyes and mouth and cock that it was. 

He couldn’t help himself; he bent down and bit one cheek, trying not to laugh at Loki’s yelp and the annoyed glance he threw over his shoulder at Thor. 

Thor grinned, shrugging. “You are perfection.” 

“So you mar it with your teeth?” 

“Oh _yes_.” 

Loki’s mouth twitched. “As you were, then,” he gave his permission imperiously. 

Thor’s cock dribbled at the words and, likely, the tone. Loki acting every inch the Prince he was – proper, poised, perfect – just _did_ things to Thor; it made him want to _ruin_ him. 

And ruin him he would, he thought, as he spread Loki’s legs and settled between them, trying not to stare at the tiny pink pucker of his hole as it was finally revealed to his gaze. 

He failed miserably. 

When Loki startled him with a well-placed kick to his own arse, Thor moved, spreading Loki’s cheeks open further with his hands, Loki’s hole clenching in anticipation. Thor blew across it, his warm breath making Loki gasp. 

“Thor, what...?” 

He choked on his words at the first lick of Thor’s tongue against his hole and buried his face in his arms, shuddering as his breathing quickened. 

Thor licked again. And again and again and again. He groaned deep in his throat as he squeezed Loki’s cheeks unforgivingly, delighting in how red his skin was getting, both from his grip and from the burn of his beard. He licked his hole again, this time flexing his tongue to delve within, breathing through his nose and inhaling the scent of soap and Loki’s skin, as he teased his rim, pausing every so often to press a reverent kiss to whatever delectable inch of skin that caught his eyes. 

His cock seemed to get impossibly harder, and Thor could no longer ignore its demands. He ground himself into the mattress and prayed for patience, a virtue that had eluded him all his life. 

This was Loki’s first time and, as much as he wanted to, Thor could not take him like the mindless, rutting beast he suddenly felt awaken within him. 

“I need oil...” he muttered frantically to himself, hoping there was some to be found in the room even though he was loath to move an inch from his present spot in the most wondrous place in all the Nine. 

In a flash of aquamarine magic, an elegant stoppered glass vial appeared on the bed beside him: the requested oil. “You are very handy to have around, my love,” he teased Loki as he poured out the sweet-scented fluid onto his fingers. “Almond?” 

Loki hummed in agreement, too far gone to speak, though he did gasp when Thor traced his hole with slick fingers, rubbing and probing until the soft pucker parted enough to accept the tip of his finger. 

He worked Loki open gently, miraculously granted with the patience he’d needed, mesmerised as he watched his finger breach Loki’s body, all the way down to the knuckle as Loki moaned. 

Thor bit his lip before deciding he could bite better things and nibbled and pressed sucking kisses to Loki’s bare bottom as one finger slowly became two and three as Loki opened up to him; he had a lot of cock to welcome into his body, after all, for Thor was rather generously proportioned. 

“Thor, please...” Loki begged, mindless as he pushed his arse back. Thor indulged him, fucking him with his fingers, faster and deeper, feeling around when he was in deep for that magical spot that would again make Loki see stars. 

When he found it and pressed, Loki shouted, so Thor rubbed at the tender spot, ruthless in his desire to see Loki fall apart at the seams, because that’s what it felt like Thor was doing just watching him. A ragged sob tore out of Loki’s throat as he thrashed against the sheets. “Fuck me,” he pleaded. “I need you, Thor.” 

“Then you shall have me, Loki,” Thor rumbled. He could take no more; he’d reached the end of his patience. Sparing only enough time to slick his own cock with oil from root to tip, he wiped his hands on the bedsheet before turning Loki to lie on his back. 

They stopped then, staring at each other for an endless moment as their chests heaved with every inhaled breath, before both of them moved, their mouths melding in a searing kiss as Thor nudged his way between Loki’s legs, taking his rigid, aching cock in hand and pressing it to Loki’s hole.        

Again, they stopped, mouths coming apart as they gazed at each other and Thor pushed, both of them grunting as Loki’s hole opened, and the tip of Thor’s cock, wet with oil and the evidence of his checked desire, slid in. His hole accepted Thor gradually but eagerly, and Loki panted with the stretch, clutching at Thor like a lifeline. Slowly, he opened up as Thor’s cock breached him further, his hole beautifully sucking him in with the tightest of grips, perfect as Thor pushed in deeper, inch by torturous inch, the feel of Loki’s slick channel like silk against the heat of his cock. Loki shuddered in his arms as Thor settled in to the hilt.

They stopped once more: to savour, to sigh, to seal their love with a breathless kiss. 

How long they would have kept on kissing, Thor would never know because, in the next instant, Loki clenched around his cock and Thor hissed and, before he knew it, he was pulling out and thrusting back in, a pull and push he repeated as he watched a myriad different emotions play about Loki’s face, from want to wonder and everything in between. 

Loki’s arms slipped around Thor’s shoulders, his fingertips soft as they traced along his sweaty skin. His hands entangled themselves in Thor’s hair, pushing it away from his face as Thor grunted and thrust harder. Loki took every inch of him, his eyes never wavering from Thor’s, his mouth slack as he gasped with every thrust, panting so softly and looking so enticing that Thor couldn’t resist kissing his pretty pink lips, his tongue thrusting in harmony with his cock, until both of them were breathless. 

“Is it...is it always...like this?” Loki stuttered, gasping softly. 

“It’s... _never_...felt like this...” Thor replied and, in truth, it hadn’t. Even as he was driven by desire, he felt like his heart was full to bursting, from the overwhelming _rightness_ of it all. 

Thor squeezed his eyes shut as Loki wound his legs around his waist, instinctively tilting his hips up to take Thor in deeper. The new angle meant that Thor was hitting his sweet spot with every other thrust, if Loki’s reaction was anything to go by. 

Thor pressed down on him, entranced by the sheer pleasure on his face. Loki’s cock, hard and leaking again was trapped between their stomachs and the friction was making him moan wantonly. Thor slowed his thrusts and ground into Loki instead, deliberately swivelling his hips, pushing in deep until Loki was gasping and red-faced. 

“Are you close?” Thor whispered. Loki nodded frantically, seemingly incapable of speech. “Good,” Thor muttered, because he was not sure how much longer he could take this sweet torture.

They moved together after that, their movements frenzied and fast as Thor lifted off just enough to get a hand around Loki, stripping his cock with firm strokes as Loki grabbed him tighter, choking out a cry as he came, his creamy spend coating Thor’s hand. The clutch of his body around Thor’s cock tightened as he shuddered through his pleasure, and Thor drove into him with renewed vigour, hard and feverish and intense, grunting and burying himself deep as he sought to possess Loki in every way possible, every muscle in his body seizing, almost paralysing him with pleasure as he too found his release. 

He collapsed on Loki, his chest heaving, feeling a bone-deep satisfaction he’d never experienced before as he hid his face in the crook of Loki’s neck. He was sated, sweaty, and so, so smug that it would probably be disastrous for him if Loki noticed. 

He yelped when Loki pinched his arse hard. “I can almost feel the smugness radiating from you,” he drawled, his voice still a little ragged. 

Thor chuckled. “You know me so well,” he muttered, pressing a warm kiss to Loki’s neck before lifting up to look at him. He stroked Loki’s hair away from his sweaty forehead. “Are you well?” 

Loki wiggled a bit and Thor was reminded that his now soft cock was still inside Loki. He gently pulled out, Loki moaning at the friction, and then hiding his face in Thor’s shoulder when Thor’s spend leaked out of him. 

“This is a filthy business,” he muttered, sounding thoroughly put out. 

“Aye,” Thor agreed, laughing as his fingers found Loki’s ticklish spots again and brushed against them. 

“I will hex you if you keep that up,” Loki threatened. Then he sighed mightily, and waved his hand, wisps of his aquamarine magic swirling around them until they were both clean. 

“You are truly wondrous,” Thor mused as he hunkered down in now freshened sheets, his body clean of sweat and spend. He gathered Loki close and placed a smacking kiss on his cheek so loud that Loki swatted his chest. “Truly, Loki, did you enjoy that?” 

Loki kissed Thor’s chest. “Very much,” he murmured, his mouth achingly close to a nipple. When he reached out with his tongue and swiped across the nub, Thor shivered. “When can we do it again?” 

Thor laughed delightedly and tumbled them over, until he’d once again pinned Loki beneath his body. “I am an old man compared to you in your first blush of youth; you’ll have to give me five minutes.”

Loki’s mouth curled into an exaggerated moue of disappointment. “If I must.” 

Thor kissed that expression off his face, both of them smiling, totally wrapped up in each other; it was a stark contrast to how his trysts usually ended, with him looking for the nearest escape route as soon as possible after the deed was done.

“My secret plan was to entice Wendell, you know,” Loki said, apropos of nothing.

“ _What?_ ”

Loki sighed and stroked Thor’s beard, soothing him. “I’d heard about how he’d changed. How he was no longer arrogant and stupid but wise and humble and with a good heart. Being a Saviour of the Nine Kingdoms, I thought he would possess enough skill to stand up to my sisters.”

Thor drew back. “Wendell has no skill to speak of! He just got lucky saving the Nine!”

“Stop being so jealous,” Loki admonished, pinching Thor’s arm this time. “Also, I did not know that at the time.”

“But you knew the second you saw him?”

“No, I knew the second I saw _you_.”

Thor smirked. “Me? Do tell.”

“Must you always go fishing for compliments? It’s very unattractive.”

“The flush upon your face tells me that I’m quite the opposite of unattractive.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Don’t think; you may injure yourself.”

“Of course, love. I shall leave all the thinking to you.”

“See that you do.”

“So...” Thor fished shamelessly, “you saw me and toppled head over heels in love...”

“I most certainly did not!” Loki exclaimed, all mock outrage.

“You thought: My what a magnificent specimen...”

“I thought: Argh, look at this absolute ape!”

“...how handsome is he...”

“How arrogant is he...”

“...how charming...”

“How annoying...”

“He’s so witty...”

“What a dunderhead!”

 “I think I’m in love...”

Loki smiled fondly. “I _know_ I’m in love...”

Thor chuckled, peppering kisses to Loki’s mouth and face and neck until Loki squirmed beneath him. “Loki?

“Mmm?”

“Marry me.”

“Thor?”

“Mmm?”

“You proposed already. It was just a few hours ago when we were dancing. Remember that, old man?”

“I was just thinking,” Thor confided, surprising even himself because the thought had only just occurred to him. “I want to marry you today. Right now.”

Loki sputtered. “It’s the middle of the night!

“It's Kissing Town; there is a chapel in the village that never closes!”

“I’m in my nightclothes and I’m far too pleasantly sore andcomfortable to get up right now,” Loki said, huffing; Thor’s heart – which had taken flight at the mere thought of becoming Loki’s husband this very night – deflated, fizzling like a burst balloon. Loki kissed his cheek in recompense. “We’ll get married in the morning.”

Thor heart soared again as he grinned. “Truly?”

Loki smirked, the look in his eyes fond as he leaned up to kiss Thor sweetly. “If that is what you wish.”

“What about what you wish?”

“I cannot wait to marry you. I would marry you a hundred times if I could.”

Thor had another sudden stroke of brilliance. “We should get married in every Kingdom!”

Loki squinted up at him. “Seriously?”

“Think of it: we would have nine honeymoons!”

“Idiot,” Loki muttered affectionately.

“Oh wait – your mother would probably kill me if she found out...”

“So we’ll make sure she doesn’t find out.”

“Argh, my grandmother will probably aid and abet her in my punishment...”

“I can be very secretive if I want to,” Loki assured him. “You, on the other hand... Come to think of it – you’re right. Best to wait.”

“I can keep a secret!”

“I highly doubt it,” Loki drawled. “I see now that I will have to be both the brains and brawn of this relationship.”

Thor flexed his bicep, blatantly showing off his brawn. “How do you figure that?”

Loki flexed his magic, and wisps of it creeped and curled around Thor, trapping him gently, making him feel like he was on the receiving end of a hug from a giant octopus.

Loki raised a single eyebrow in silent challenge and Thor graciously bowed his head, acknowledging defeat. Loki grinned in triumph and kissed him soundly before laying back against the pillows and sighing, staring up at Thor like he’s never seen a better sight. It brought a lump to Thor’s throat and he swallowed nervously, still unable to believe how he’d gotten so lucky: to find Loki, to fall in love with him, and to have his love returned so wholeheartedly.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Thor whispered. 

“Like what?” Loki murmured in response. 

“Like you would do anything for me.”

“I _would_ do anything for you.” 

“Like you love me more than anything...” 

“I do love you more than anything...” 

Thor drew in a shuddery breath and felt it best not to argue with the love of his life. He instead watched Loki watch him, marvelling at the way the moonlight illuminated the perfection of his face, and found that his breath was once again stolen from him. 

Thor sighed, unable to keep the wonder out of his own gaze. “I was right.” 

“About what?” 

“You do look exquisite in the moonlight.” 

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched and Thor, conditioned now, a willing slave to Loki’s smiles, had to kiss it. 

“Thor?” 

“Mmm?” Thor hummed, thoroughly distracted by the mischievous way Loki grinned up at him. “What?” 

“Your five minutes are up.” 

Thor was struck dumb for just a moment before he burst out laughing, setting Loki off as well, until both of them were breathless for an entirely more satisfying reason. 

 

Later, at the first light of dawn, in a quiet little chapel in Kissing Town – neutral territory, Thor would later argue, when faced with the wrath of two very scary Queens – with Wilhelm and Mjölnir standing witness, Thor married his Prince Charming, and Loki married his. It was the first of several of their weddings, every single one of them more magical than the last. 

And, with every day that passed, they lived _better_ than happily ever after.

 

*** * ***

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up at **qblackheart.tumblr.com**!


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